ERRATA. 

Page    16,  stanza  4 — For  "then  save"  read  "them  save." 
Page    23,  line  6 — For  "defied"  read  "deified." 
Page    59 — For  "Son.  34-vcxxiii  "  read  "  34-cxxviii." 
Page    80,  note  2— For  "Son.  83-xlix  "  read  "  82-xlix." 
Page    85,  note  1 — For  "Son.  82-cxiii  "  read  "81-cxiii." 
Page  312,  line  2— For  "  Not  "  read  "Nor." 
Page  336,  stanza  3,  line  6 — For  "leave  "  read  "have." 
Page  336,  stanza  4,  line  5— For  "has"  read  "hath." 


SHAKE-SPEARE 

ENGLAND'S  ULY55L5, 

THE  MASQUE 

OF 

LOVE'S  LABOR'S  WON 

OR 

THE  ENACTED  WILL 


The  Phcenix.       By  the  way  sweet  Nature  tell  me  this, 
Is  this  the  Moly  that  is  excellent, 
For  strong  enchantments,  and  the  adders  hiss?1 
Is  this  the  Moly  that  Mercurious  sent 
To  wise  Ulysses,2  when  he  did  prevent 
The  witchcraft,  and  foul  Circes  damned  charms, 
That  would  have  compassed  him  with  twenty 
harms? 

Mother  Nature.      This  is  the  Moly  growing  in  this   land, 
That  was  revealed  by  cunning  Mercury 
To  great  Ulysses,  Making  him  withstand 
The  hand  of  Circes  fatal  sorcery, 
That  would  have  loaden  him  with  misery,1 
And  ere  we  pass  lie  show  some  excellence, 
Of  other  herbs  in  physics  noble  science. 
Love's  Martyr;6  or,  Rosalinds  Complaint,  1601,  p.  92. 


1  Dramatic  writing  a  handicap  to  the  succession. 

2  Cp.  "Great  Strong-Bowe's  heir,"  p.  130,  and  note  6,  p. 244. 

3  A  mutilated,  dismembered  and  buried  love  play. 


Poets  are  borne  not  made,  when  I  would  prove 
This  truth,  the  glad  rememberance  I  must  love 
Of  never  dying  Shakespeare,  who  alone, 
Is  argument  enough  to  make  that  one. 
First,  that  he  was  a  Poet  none  would  doubt, 
That  heard  th'  applause  of  what  he  sees  set  out 
Imprinted;  where  thou  hast  [I  will  not  say] 
Reader  his  workes  for  to  contrive  a  Play. 
To  him  'twas  none]1  the  patterne  of  all  wit, 
Art  without  Art  unparaleld  as  yet. 

Leonard  Digges  in  Benson's  1640  Edition  of  the  Sonnets. 


It  was  never  acted;  or,  if  it  was,  not  above  once,  for  the 
play,  I  remember,  pleased  not  the  million;  'twas  caviare  to  the 
general;  but  it  was — as  I  received  it,  and  others,  whose  judg- 
ments in  such  matters  cried  in  the  top  of  mine — an  excellent  play, 
well  digested  in  the  scenes,  set  down  with  as  much  modesty  as  cun- 
ning.— Hamlet,  n.  2. 


Where  thou  hast  [I  will  not  say 

To  him  'twas  none]  reader  his  works  for  to  contrive  a  flay. 


ROBERT  DEVEREUX,  SECOND  EARL  OF   ESSEX. 

PEN  NAMES: 

HENRY  WILLOBIE— ROBERT  CHESTER— 
IQNOTO  AND  WILLIAM  SHAKE-SPEARE. 


SHAKE-SPEARE 

ENGLAND'S  ULYSSES, 

THE  MASQUE 
OF 

LOME'S  LABOR'S  WON 

• 

OR 

THE  ENACTED  WILL. 

'  '  Dignum  laude  virum  Musa  vetat  mori." 

DRAMATIZED 

FROM  THE  SONNETS  OF  1609. 
["Reader  his  workes  for  to  contrive  a  play."] 


BY 


LATHAM  DAVIS. 


20*h  ST., 
.NEW  YORK. 


Copyright,  1905,  by 

LATHAM    DAVIS 
All  rights  reserved. 


"There  were  no  gods  'till  Love  mingled  all  things;  and  by 
the  mixture  of  the  different  with  the  different  Heaven  came  to  be, 
and  Ocean,  and  Earth,  and  the  undying  race  of  all  the  blessed 
gods." — Cp.  The  Birds,  Aristophanes,  11.  691-706. 

The  ways  on  earth  have  paths  and  turnings  known, 
The  ways  on  sea  are  gone  by  needle's  light, 
The  birds  of  heaven  the  nearest  ways  have  flown, 
And  under  earth  the  moles  do  cast  aright; 
A  way  more  hard  than  those  I  needs  must  take, 
Where  none  can  teach,  and  no  man  can  direct, 
Where  no  man's  good  for  me  example  makes, 
But  all  men's  faults  do  teach  her  to  suspect. 
Her  thoughts  and  mine  such  disproportion  have; 
All  strength  of  love  is  infinite  in  me; 
She  useth  the  advantage  time  and  fortune  gave 
Of  worth  and  power  to  get  the  liberty. 

Earth,  sea,  heaven,  hell,  are  subject  to  love's  laws; 

But  I!  poorl!  must  suffer  and  know  no  cause. 

Poems  of  Essex. 

While  Bacon's  sense  of  the  presence  of  physical  law  in  the 
universe  was  for  his  time  extraordinari^  developed,  he  seems 
practically  to  have  acted  upon  the  theory  that  the  moral  laws  of 
the  world  are  not  inexorable,  but  rather  by  tactics  and  dexterity 
may  be  cleverly  evaded.1  Their  supremacy  was  acknowledged  by 
Shakspere  ....  he  reaches  to  the  ultimate  truths  of  human  life 
and  character  through  a  supreme  and  indivisible  energy  of  love, 
imagination  and  thought. — Shakspere,  His  Mind  and  Art,  Dow- 
den,  p.  1 6. 


1  I  do  esteem  whatsoever  I  have  or  may  have  in  this  world  but  as  trash,  in  comparison  of 
having  the  honour  and  happiness  to  be  a  near  and  well  accepted  kinsman  to  so  rare  and  worthy 
a  counsellor,  governor,  and  patriot. — Letter,  Francis  Bacon  to  Robert  Cecil,  January  ist,  1608. 

My  Lord  of  Salisbury  [Robert  Cecil]  had  a  good  method,  if  his  ends  had  been  upright. — 
Letter,  Bacon  to  James  I.,  May  3ist,  1612. 


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One  rare  rich  Phoenix  of  exceeding  beauty, 

One  none-like  Lily  in  the  earth  I  placed; 

One  fair  Helena  to  whom  men  owe  duty, 

One  country  with  a  milk-white  Dove  I  graced. 

One  and  none  such,  since  the  wide  world  was  found 
Hath  ever  Nature  placed  on  the  ground.1 
Mother  Nature  to  Jove  in  Love's  Martyr.      [Cp.  p.  360.] 

The  only  bird  alone  that  Nature  Frames? 
When  weary  of  the  tedious  life  she  lives, 
By  fire  dies,  yet  finds  new  life  in  flames. 

In  Allusion  to  the  Phcenix,  Daniel,  1591.      [Cp.  p.  65.] 

How  only  she  [Mother  Nature]  bestowes1 
The  wealthy  treasure  of  her  love  in  him: 
Making  his  fortunes  swim 
In  the  full  flood  of  her  admired  perfection. 

Ben  Jonson  in  Love's  Martyr.      [Cp.  p.  226.] 

Mars  must  become  a  coward  in  his  mynde, 
Whiles  Vulcan  standes  to  prate  of  Venus  toyes: 
Beautie  must  seeme  to  go  against  her  kinde, 
In  crossing  Nature  in  her  sweetest  joyes.1 

Poems  of  Essex.      [Cp.  p.  245.] 

And  he,  the  man  whom  Nature  self  had  made 
To  mock  herself^  and  truth  to  imitate  .... 
But  that  same  gentle  spirit,  from  whose  pen 
Large  streams  of  honie  and  sweet  nectar  flow, 
Scorning  the  boldness  of  such  base  born  men 
Which  dare  their  follies  forth  so  rashly  throw, 
Doth  rather  choose  to  sit  in  idle  cell, 
Than  so  himself  to  mockery  to  sell. 

Tears  of  The  Muses,   Spenser,    1591. 

1  Mother  Nature  herself  a  dramatist. 
10 


INTRODUCTION 


'Favor  must  die,  and  fancy  wear  away." 

Poems  of  Essex.      [Cp.  p.  245.] 


Many  have  imagined  that  the  greatest  dramatist  of  the  great- 
est literary  period  of  the  world  was  a  man;  in  these  pages  I  pur- 
pose showing  that  in  Elizabeth's  time  there  was  a  bragging  wo- 
man who  aspired  to  a  chair  among  the  immortals,  and  that  our 
greatest  comedy:  the  one  that  "of  time  shall  live  beyond  the  end"1 
was  written — preposterous  as  it  may  seem — by  a  woman,  Fal- 
staff's  mother,  Dame  Nature  herself. 

In  1598,  Francis  Meres  mentions  twelve  plays  by  Shake- 
speare, six  comedies,  and  six  tradgedies,  "affecting  a  balanced 
symetry;"  among  the  comedies  named  was  Love's  Labor's  Won. 
No  play  of  this  name  has  come  down  to  us,  was  Meres  mistaken 
in  his  studied  nomenclature?  Again,  Hamlet  is  wordy,  if  not 
garrulous  over  "an  excellent  play"  that  was  '''caviare  to  the  gen- 
eral,"  was  Hamlet  mistaken  as  to  the  existence  of  this  rare  play? 

Among  the  works  of  Shake-speare  are  two  productions  whose 
meaning  has  withstood  the  skill  and  baffled  the  resources  of  our 
keenest  scholars;2  these  compositions  are  the  one  hundred  and 
fifty- four  Sonnets  taken  collectively,  and  the  eighteen  stanza 
poem  contributed  to  Love's  Martyr  and  known  as  The  Phcenix 
and  Turtle  Dove. 

Apparently,  these  two  productions  have  naught  in  common 
but  are  absolutely  independent,  The  Phoenix  and  Turtle  appear- 
ing in  1 60 1,  the  Sonnets  not  seeing  the  light  until  1609.  From 
testimony  now  first  in  evidence,  these  compositions  are  so  inti- 


1  Cp.  Drayton's  Sonnet  to  the  Phoenix,  p.  246. 

2  Cp.  The  Subject  Matter,  p.  14. 


mately  related  that  they  fuse  or  coalesce,  losing  their  individual- 
ity in  one  conception. 

So  they  loved  as  love  in  twain, 
Had  the  essence  but  in  one, 
Two  distincts,  division  none, 
Number  there  in  love  was  slain. 

Reason  in  itself  confounded, 
Saw  division  grow  together, 
To  themselves  yet  either  neither, 
Simple  were  so  well  compounded. 
The  Phoenix  and  Turtle. 

Briefly,  the  Phoenix  is  a  dismantled  Masque,  its  text  repre- 
sented by  the  one  hundred  and  fifty- four  Sonnets,  and  the  Turtle 
Dove  is  the  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  Masque  embedded  in  the 
first  five  stanzas  of  the  poem  known  as  The  Phoenix  and  Turtle. 

If  that  the  Phoenix  had  been  separated, 
And  from  the  gentle  Turtle  had  been  parted, 
Love  had  been  murdered  in  the  infancie, 
Without  these  two  no  love  at  all  can  be. 

Love '  s  Martyr ;  or,  Rosalin"1  s  Complaint,  p.  140. 

In  analyzing  the  framework  of  this  Phcenix  Masque — sup- 
posedly written  and  certainly  enacted  by  Mother  Nature  and  her 
children — it  becomes  apparent  that  the  deep  laid  scheme  cunning- 
ly assumes  the  dignity  of  a  legal  document,  being  witnessed  by 
John  Marston,  George  Chapman,  and  Ben  Jonson,  and  that  the 
sole  purpose  of  the  play  is  to  convey  and  re-establish  by  an  ar- 
tistic Will  the  authorship  of  our  Shake-spearian  literature;  fur- 
thermore, in  the  wiping  out  of  the  Sonnets  as  personal  love 
poems,  and  their  evolvement  in  a  drama 

"Only  by  dying  born  the  very  same" 
the  Phcenix  prophecy  in  Henry  VIII.  is  fulfilled. 

"When  heaven  shall  call  her  from  this  cloud  of  darkness, 
Her  ashes  new  create  another  heir." 

The  name  of  this  new  heir  to  the  Shake-spearian  mantle,  as 
revealed  by  the  "star  like"  acrostic  that  "stands  fix'd"  at  the 
termination  of  the  Dramatis  Personae — is  that  of  "the  one  pre- 
eminent man  in  the  Court  of  Elizabeth,"  none  other  than  "the 
brilliant  but  impetuous,  the  greatly  dowered  but  rash,  the  illus- 
trious but  unhappy  Robert  Devereux,  second  Earl  of  Essex." 

Omaha,  August,  1905. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Introduction           .              .               .               .              .              .  n 

The  Subject  Matter    .              .              .              .  14 

Invocatio                 .               .              .               .               .               .  15 

The  Masque  of   Love's  Labor's  Won              .               .  17 

The  Origin  of  Hamlet      .....  175 

Ulysses  and  the  Court  of  Elizabeth                 .               .               .  203 

The  Man  was  Dead            .....  223 

William  Shakspere,  Poet  or  Peacock               .               .               .  236 

Birds  of  A  Feather             .               .               .               .               .  239 

Chronology  of  the  Plays          .               .               .               .              .  242 

Essex  Claims  the  Authorship        .               .               .  244 

Divus  Shake-speare    ......  246 

The  Phoanix  Analyzed       .....  249 

Penelopes  Challenge                 .....  279 

Portrait  of  Essex                .....  286 

Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship      ....  290 

Monks  of  Monkery             .....  346 

APPENDIX. 

I- — Love's  Martyr;  Or,  Rosalin's  Complaint  .  .  353 
IL— Bacon's  Declaration,  1601  ....  [1-34] 
III. — Bacon's  Apology,  1604  ,  .  .  [1-21] 


THE  SUBJECT  MATTER 

'  'Robert  Chester's  'Love's  Martyr;  or,  Rosalin's  Complaint, 
published  in  1601,  contained  according  to  the  preface,  'diverse 
poetical  essays  on  the  Turtle1  and  Phoenix2  done  by  the  best  and 
chiefest  of  our  modern  writers.'  Shakespeare's  contribution  to 
this  collection  of  verse  was  'The  Phoenix  and  the  Turtle'  the 
most  enigmatical  of  his  works.  This  poem  of  thirteen  stanzas 
of  four  lines  each,  concluding  with  a  Threnos  of  five  stanzas  of 
three  lines  each,  is  a  poetical  requiem  for  the  Phoenix  and  the 
Turtle  whose  love  was  'married  chastity.'  Among  the  contri- 
butors to  the  collection  were  Shakespeare's  great  contemporaries, 
Jonson,  Chapman,  and  Marston;  but  neither  the  purpose  nor  the 
occasion  of  the  publication  has  yet  been  discovered,  nor  has  any 
light  been  shed  from  any  quarter  on  the  allegory,  whose  mean- 
ing Shakespeare  seems  to  have  hidden  from  posterity  in  this 
baffling  poem, — Emerson  suggested  that  a  prize  be  offered  for  an 
essay  which  'should  explain  by  a  historical  research  into  the 
poetic  myths  and  tendencies  of  the  age  in  which  it  was  written, 
the  frame  and  allusions  of  the  poem.'  But  although  much  re- 
search has  been  devoted  to  this  object,  and  many  metaphysical, 
political,  ecclesiastical,  and  historical  interpretations  have  been 
suggested  'the  Phoenix  and  the  Turtle  remains  an  unsolved  enig- 
ma."— Shakespeare,  Poet,  Dramatist,  and  Man,  H.  W.  Maine, 
1900,  p.  225. 

"in  all  seriousness  we  think  it  is  high  time  that  the  'clos- 
ure' should  be  applied  to  the  debate  on  the  Mystery  of  Shake- 
speare's Sonnets.  If  there  was  the  faintest  indication  of  any 
dawn  on  the  darkness,  even  the  wearied  reviewer  would  be  pa- 
tient ....  Indeed,  it  may  now  be  said  with  literal  truth  that, 
unless  some  fresh  discovery  is  made,  nothing  new,  whether  in 
the  way  of  absurdity  or  sense,  can  be  advanced  on  this  Subject. 
The  problem  presented  in  the  Sonnets  is  undoubtedly  the  most 
fascinating  problem  in  all  literature,  and  it  is  as  exasperating  as 
it  is  fascinating.  It  appears  to  be  so  simple,  it  seems  constantly 
to  be  on  the  verge  of  its  solution,  and  yet  the  moment  we  get  be- 
yond a  certain  point  in  inquiry,  the  more  complex  its  apparent 
simplicity  is  discovered  to  be,  the  more  hopeless  all  prospect  of 
explaining  the  enigma." — Ephemera  Critica,  1902,  J.  C.  Collins •, 
p.  219. 

1  Allegory,  the  Dramatis  Personse  of  the  Masque. 

8  Allegory,  the  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  Dismantled  Masque, 

*4 


INVOCATIO 

A  prayer  made  for  the  prosperity1  of  the  Turtle  Dove 
[England's  Wooden  Horse],  i.  e.,  that  the  Dramatis 
Persona  of  the  Sonnets  of  1609  maybe  discovered  and 
the  name  of  our  true  Shake-speare  [England's  Ulysses] 
shall  not  perish  from  the  earth. 


D 


V 


O  Thou  great  maker  of  the  firmament, 
That  rid'st  upon  the  winged  Cherubins, 
And  on  the  glorious  shining  element, 
Hear'st  the  sad  praiers  of  the  Seraphins, 
That  unto  thee  continually  sing  Hj^mnes; 

Bow  downe  thy  listning  eares  thou  God  of  might, 
To  him  whose  heart  will  praise  thee  day  and  night. 

Accept  the  humble  Praiers  of  that  soule, 
That  now  lies  wallowing  in  the  myre  of  Sinne, 
Thy  mercie  Lord  doth  all  my  powers  controule, 
And  searcheth  reines  and  heart  that  are  within: 
Therefore  to  thee  Jehovah  He  begin: 

Lifting  my  head  from  my  imprisoned  grave, 
No  mercie  but  thy  mercie  me  can  save. 

The  foule  untamed  Lion  still  goes  roring, 
Old  hell-bread  Sathan  enemy  to  mankind, 
To  lead  me  to  his  jawes  that  are  devouring, 
Wherein  no  Grace  to  humane  flesh's  assign'd, 
But  thou  celestiall  Father  canst  him  bind: 

Tread  on  his  head,  tread  Sinne  and  Sathan  downe, 
And  on  thy  servants  head  set  Mercies  crowne. 


1  In  Love's  Martyr  the  heading  to  the  prayer  reads:  "A  prayer   made  for  the 
prosperity  of  a  silver  coloured  Dove,  applyed  to  the  beauteous  Phoenix." 

15 


E 


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E 


U 


X 


Thus  in  acceptance  of  thy  glorious  sight, 
I  purge  my  deadly  sinne  in  hope  of  grace, 
Thou  art  the  Doore,  the  Lanthorne  and  the  Light, 
To  guide  my  sinfull  feete  from  place  to  place, 
And  now  O  Christ  I  bow  before  thy  face: 

And  for  the  silver  coloured  earthly  Dove, 

I  make  my  earnest  prayer  for  thy  love. 

Shrowde  her  O  Lord  under  thy  shadowed  wings, 
From  the  worlds  envious  malice  and  deceit, 
That  like  the  adder-poisoned  serpent  stings, 
And  in  her  way  laves  a  corrupted  baite, 
Yet  raise  her  God  unto  thy  mercies  height: 
Guide  her,  O  guide  her  from  pernicious  foes, 
That  many  of  thy  creatures  overthrowes. 

Wash  her  O  Lord  with  Hysope  and  with  Thime, 
And  the  white  snow  she  shall  excell  in  whitenesse, 
Purge  her  with  mercie  from  all  sinfull  crime, 
And  her  soules  glorie  shall  exceed  in  brightnesse, 
O  let  thy  mercie  grow  unto  such  ripenesse: 
Behold  her,  O  behold  her  gratious  King, 
That  unto  thee  sweet  songs  of  praise  will  sing. 

And  as  thou  leadst  through  the  red  coloured  waves, 

The  host  of  thy  elected  Israel, 

And  from  the  wrath  of  Pharoe  didst  then  save, 

Appointing  them  within  that  land  to  dwell, 

A  chosen  land,  a  land  what  did  excell: 

So  guide  thy  silver  Dove  unto  that  place, 
Where  she  Temptations  envie  may  outface. 

Increase  thy  gifts  bestowed  on  thy  Creature, 
And  multiply  thy  blessings  manifold, 
And  as  thou  hast  adorned  her  with  nature, 
So  with  thy  blessed  eyes  her  eyes  behold, 
That  in  them  doth  thy  workmanship  unfold, 
Let  her  not  wither  Lord  without  increase, 
But  bless  her  with  jo37es  offspring  of  sweet  peace. 

Amen.     Amen. 
Robert  Chester  in  Love's  Martyr,  1601,  p.  21, 


There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 
Than  are  dreamt  of  in  our  philosophy. 

Hamlet,  i-v. 


THE  MASQUE 

— OF- 
LOVE'S  LABOR'S  WON. 

[A  SWEET  CONCEIT.] 

The  only  thing  that  will  satisfy  the  world  that  he  [the  Player] 
was  not  the  author  of  the  plays  is  a  demonstration  that  another 
was.  Such  a  demonstration  cannot  be  supplied  by  the  evidence 
of  contemporaries,  .  .  .  still  less  can  it  be  supplied  by  Cryptogram 
or  Cipher.  —  The  Mystery  of  William  Shakespeare,  Judge  Webb, 
Baconian. 


.  .  .  Since  the  world  is  at  this  woefull  passe, 
Let  Love's  submission  Honour's  wrath  apease: 
Let  not  an  Horse  be  matched  with  an  Asse, 
Nor  hatefull  tongue  an  happie  hart  disease. 
So  shall  the  world  commend  a  sweet  conceipte, 
And  humble  Fayth  on  heavenly  honour  waite. 

Poems  of  Essex,  Cp.  p.  245, 


" I  hold  it  ever, 

Virtue  and  cunning  were  endowments  greater 
Than  nobleness  and  riches:  careless  heirs 
May  the  two  latter  darken  and  expend: 
But  immortality  attends  the  former, 
Making  a  man  a  god.     'Tis  known,  I  ever 
Have  studied  physic,1  which  doth  give  me 
A  more  content;  in  course  of  true  delight 
Than  to  be  thirsty  after  tottering  honor, 
Or  tie  my  treasure  up  in  silken  bags, 
To  please  the  fool  and  death. 

Pericles,  111-2. 


Lines  on  the  dismantling  of  a  play  that  pleased  not 
the  million,  but  was  "caviare  to  the  general"3  "of  our 
gracious  empress."1 

Muses4  no  more  but  Mazes5  be  yor  names, 
•  Where  discord  sound  shall  marre  yor  concorde  sweet; 
Unkyndly  now  yor  carefull  fancye  frames 
When  fortune  treades  yor  favors  under  feet; 
But  foule  befalle  that  cursed  Cuckces"  throt, 
That  so  hath  crost  sweet  Philomelas7  note. 

Essex,  "  General  of  our  gracious  Empress,"* 


1  Cp.  p.  250.         z  Hamlet,  u.  2. 

3  Henry  V.,  v.  i. 

*  The  speaking  characters  of  the  Sonnets  of  1609. 

5  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 

6The  player  Shakspere,  a  creature  of  the  crown. 

7  Essex,  ths  Nightingale  or  the  honey-tongued  Sha,k,e-spea,re.     Cp.  p.  335. 


18 


THE  "W.  H."  DEDICATION  A  CHALLENGE 

— OR— 
METAMORPHOSING1  THE  MIGHTY  BOW. 

Rational  Knowledges  are  the  keys  of  all  other  arts;  for  as 
Aristotle  saith  aptly  and  elegantly,  That  the  HAND  is  the  In- 
strument of  Instruments^  and  t]ie  mind  is  tJie  Form  of  Forms:  so 
these  be  truly  said  to  be  the  Art  of  Arts:  neither  do  they  only 
direct,  but  likewise  confirm  and  strengthen;  even  as  the  habit  of 
shooting  doth  not  only  enable  to  shoot  a  nearer  shoot,  but  also  to 
draw  a  stronger  bow. — Adv.  of  L.,  II.  260,  Francis  Bacon. 


Behold  your  test  of  skill!  I  bring  to  you 

The  mighty  bow  that  great  Ulysses  bore. 

Who'er  among  you  he  may  be  WHOSE  HAND 

Shall  string  this  bow,  and  send  through  these  Twelve  Rings 

An  arrow,  him  I  follow  hence,  and  leave 

This  beautiful  abode  of  my  young  years, 

With  all  its  plenty,  though  its  memory, 

I  think,  will  haunt  me  even  in  my  dreams. 

Penelope' s  Challenge^    Homer, 

1  For  Shake-speare's  indebtedness  to  Ovfd,  cp.  note  2,  p.  256. 
8  For  noted  translations  of  Penelope's  Challenge,  see  p.  279- 

19 


THE  SONNETS  OF  1609,  DEDICATED  TO  HOMER. 

XXVI. LXXVII. 

Lord  of  my  love,  to  whom  in  vassalage 

Thy  merit  hath  my  duty  strongly  knit, 

To  thee  I  send  this  written  ambassage,1 

To  witness  duty,  not  to  show  my  wit: 

Duty  so  great,  which  wit  so  poor  as  mine 

May  make  seem  bare,  in  wanting  words  to  show  it, 

But  that  I  hope  some  good  conceit  of  thine 

In  thy  soul's  thought,1  all  naked,  will  bestow  it; 

Till  whatsoever  star  that  guides  my  moving 

Points  on  me  graciously  with  lair  aspect, 

And  puts  apparel  on  my  tatter'd  loving, 

To  show  me  worthy  of  thy  sweet  respect: 

Then  may  I  dare  to  boast  how  I  do  love  thee; 

Till  then,  not  show  my  head  where  thou  may'st  prove  me. 

Thy  glass2  will  show  thee  how  thy  beauties  wear, 

Thy  dial,1  how  thy  precious  minutes  waste; 

The  vacant3  leaves  thy  mind's  imprint  will  bear, 

And  of  this  book4  this  learning  may'st  thou  taste. 

The  wrinkles  which  thy  glass  will  truly  show 

Of  mouthed  graves  will  give  thee  memory; 

Thou  by  thy  dial's  shady  stealth  may'st  know 

Time's  thievish  progress  to  eternity. 

Look,  what  thy  memory  can  not  contain 

Commit  to  these  waste3  acts,5  and  thou  shalt  find  I 

Those  children  nurs'd,  deliver'd  from  thy  brain,    f  G 

To  take  a  new  acquaintance  of  thy  mind. 
These  offices,  so  oft  as  thou  wilt  look, 
Shall  profit  thee  and  much  enrich  thy  book.7 

William  Shake-spear e. 

1  The  rigid  laws  of  time  and  f  lace  our  bard 
In  this  night's  drama  ventures  to  discard; 
If  here  he  errs — he  errs  with  him  whose  name 
Stands  without  rival  on  the  rolls  of  fame; 
Him  whom  the  passions  own  with  one  accord 
Their  great  dictator  and  despotic  lord. 

Prologue,   Thomas  Morton's  Columbus,  1792. 

[Cp.  Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatic  Artist,  Lounsbury,  p.  73.] 

2  The  Sonnets  of  1609. 

3  Dismantled. 

*  Cp-  note  i,  p.  30,  and  note  i,  p.  222. 

5  The  Quarto  "blacks"  which,  on  strategic  grounds,  is  in  harmony  with  the  last  six  lines 
of  Son.  xxvi. 


6  The  Gods  in  Pythagorean  Comedy  upon  Plato's  Ladder  of  Love. 
7  Be  still  my  thoughts,  be  silent  all  yee  Muses, 


Wit-flowing  eloquence  now  grace  my  tongue : 
Arise  old  Homer  and  make  no  excuses, 
Of  a  rare  peece  of  art  must  be  my  song, 
Of  more  then  most,  and  most  of  all  beloved, 
About  the  which  Venus  sweete  doves  have  hovered. 
Robert  Chester  in  Love's  Martyr.     [Cp.  p.  363.] 

20 


THE  ARGUMENT,  1591. 

So  have  I  marveled  to  observe  of  late, 

Hard  favor'd  Feminities  so  scant  of  faire, 
That  Maskes  so  choicely  sheltred  of  the  aire, 

As  if  their  beauties  were  not  theirs  by  fate. 

John  Marston  in  Love"1 s  Martyr.      [Cp.  p.  395.] 

AT  THE  private  stage    in  Essex    House  the  play  of  Hamlet 
has,   at   intervals,   been   on   the  boards    since    1589. *     It  is 
mooted  in  social  and   political   circles,  that  mine   host,  the  bril- 
liant scholar  and  courtier  Robert  Devereux,  second  Earl  of  Es- 
sex is  the  author,  and  the  play  is  a  stinging  satire  on  the  Court. 

Summoned  by  the  Queen,  Essex  confesses  the  authorship 
but  denies  in  toto  that  it  is  in  any  way  political.2  Rumor  per- 
sists— the  play's  application  to  the  court  will  not  down.  For  all 
parties  concerned,  socially,  politically  and  religiously,3  the  au- 
thorship must  be  shouldered  on  another,4  a-live-man-of-straw, — 
with  a  name  that  doth  "heroically  sound,"5  classical  in  its  par- 
entage, synonomous,  interchangeable  and  suggestive  of  Ulysses6 
of  old, — is  wanted.  The  humble4  and  needy  player  from  Strat- 
ford is  judiciously  selected,  very  reluctantly  by  the  Queen,  with 
eagerness  by  Essex,  to  father  Hamlet. 

At  this  violation  of  truth  Mother  Nature  is  sore  distraught, 
—  she  desires  to  honor  her  chief  interpreter,  a  poet  who,  of 
necessity,  has  been  defrauded  of  his  work.  For,  after  all,  Ham- 

1  For  the   date   of   Hamlet,  see  notes,  pp.  114-115,  and  the  "black  ink"  fig- 
ures, p.  205. 

2  The  defection  of  Essex  and  Southampton  was  social,  not  political. 

Most  untymely  spoken  was  that  word 

That  brought  the  world  in  such  a  woefull  state, 
That  Love  and  Likeing  quite  are  overthrowne 
And  in  their  place  are  hate  and  sorrowes  growne." 
Poems  of  Essex.      [Cp.  p.  244.] 

3  Cp.  sub-note  i,  p.  162.  *  Cp.  note  3,  p.  211. 

5  Cp.  sub-note  i,  p.  113,  and  Spenser's  lines,  p.  132. 

6  "With  Shakespeare  we  are  still  out  of  doors.     He  was  the  furthest  reach  of 
subtlety  compatible  with  an  individual  self." — Emerson. 

21 


22  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

let-Essex  merely  told  the  truth  of  noble  Storge  [Gertrude-Eliza- 
beth] and  her  ministers;  besides,  the  play  was  the  work  of  a 
rash  youth  but  little  past  his  twentieth  year,  and  was  produced 
in  a  just  spirit  of  revenge  for  the  insufferable  slander  [Leicester's 
Commonwealth,  1585]  published  and  breathed  in  all  the  courts  of 
Europe,  against  his  mother,  [Lettice  Knollys]  and  his  dearly 
loved  stepfather  [Leicester,  1588]. 

So,  Mother  Nature  desires    to   honor  her  best   loved  son1- 
and  the  honoring  shall  be  a  play  that  will  surpass 

"All  that  insolent  Greece,  or  haughty  Rome 
Sent  forth,  or  since  did  from  their  ashes  come." 

This  drama,  in  its  analysis,  shall  reveal,  in  part,  the  source 
of  our  poets  infinite  invention  and  disclose  the  secret  of  his  char- 
acter building,  and  though  not  his  greatest  work  shall  be  most 
of  all  beloved. 

Whom  no  proud  flocks  of  other  fowls  could  move, 
But  in  herself  all  company  concluded. 

Geo.   CJiapman  in  Love 's  Martyr.      [Cp.  p.  396.] 

Nature's  own  children  shall  be  the  characters  and  she  will 
tutor  them  in  poetry — the  language  of  the  gods.  As  legend  is 
far  safer  than  innovation  she  will  duplicate  in  England,  Troy's 
famous  horse.  Her  hero,  Ulysses-Essex,  shall  emerge  "with 
heraldry  more  dismal"  and  the  play  shall  be  a  Masque,  a  Will 
and  a  Tragi-comedy  to  boot. 

Joy's  mirthful  tower  is  thy  dwelling  place. 

Mother  Nature  in  Love'' s  Martyr.      [Cp.  p.  372.] 

Like  many  of  the  Comedies  of  Shake-speare  the  Masque  is 
high-fantastical. 

One  rare  rich  Phoenix  of  exceeding  beauty, 
One  none-like  Lily  in  the  earth  I  placed; 
One  fair  Helena2  to  whom  men  owe  duty, 
One' country  with  a  milk-white  dove3  I  graced. 

One  and  none  such,  since  the  wide  world  was  found 

Hath  ever  Nature  placed  on  the  ground. 

Mother  Nature  in  Love' s  Martyr^      [Cp.  p.  360.] 

1  Cp.  Ben  Jonson's  lines,  p.  10. 

2  The  characters  classical,  the  gods  of  Homer  in  Extensa. 

3  "Milk-white  dove,"  Essex's  favorite  word,  Dr.   Grosart   in  Love' s  Martyr, 

p.    XLIX. 

4  Allegory  for  the  mutilated,  dismembered  or  dismantled  play  of  Love" s  La- 
bor's Won. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  or,    The  Enacted  Will.        23 

It  falls  out  that  the  Sonnets  of  1609  are  the  text  of  the  Mas- 
que, and  the  Dramatis  Personae  assumes  the  form  of  a  Will,  term- 
ing in  an  acrostic  that  "star  like"  rises,  "fixing"  the  name  of 
the  beneficiary,  Essex. 

The  characters  are  personified  abstractions,  an  assemblage  of 
the  dynamic  forces  of  nature,  or  the  human  passions  defied  into 
Muses,  neither 

God,  Man,  nor  Woman,  but  elix'd  of  all. 

John    Marston  in  Love1  s  Martyr.     [Cp.  p.  254.] 

The  time  of  the  play  is  five  years.  The  two  star  performers 
Mother  Nature  and  Father  Time  are  consummate  at  birth,  reap- 
pearing in  each  act  with  the  freshness  of  morning;  the  remaining 
eighteen  characters  [three  in  each  act]  are  germinal,  linked 
from  act  to  act  with  hoops  of  steel,  having  a  psychological  pro- 
gression. Their  term  of  life  being  one  year,  "they  live  and  die 
as  flowers  do  now  " — yet, like  Circes  swine, in  a  pythagorean  sense, 
memory  remains,  and  they  frequently  refer  to  their  relationship  in 
the  preceeding  acts,  and  the  possibilities  of  their  children  in  suc- 
ceeding acts. 

The  twenty-two  characters  defined  by  the  text  of  the  Sonnets  and 
generically  culminating  in  the  acrostic,  are  the  executors  of  the  Will 
who  bequeath  in  imperishable  beauty  [art  in  verse],  the  name  of 
the  poet  who  needs  "no  praise  but  comprehension." 

O  the  comfort  of  comforts,  to  see  your  children 

grow  up,  in  whom  you  are,  as  it  were  eternized. 

Arcadia,  Sidney. 


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Complaint,  1601.] 
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Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  or,    The  Enacted  Will.        25 


/^YNEWULF  puts  the  runes  which 
^^spell  his  name  into  certain  connected 
and  personal  verses  in  the  midst,  or  at  the 
end,  of  each  of  these  poems;  and  Kemble 
was  the  first  to  discover  that  these  runes, 
when  placed  together,  made  up  the  poet's 
name.  Owing  to  this  discovery  it  occur- 
red, as  we  have  seen,  to  Leo  that  the  first 
Riddle  contained  in  a  charade  the  sylla- 
bles of  Cynewulf's  name,  and  that  in  this 

way  the  Riddles  were  also  signed 

The  Phoenix  is  an  unsigned  poem  of  Cyn- 
ewulf's   In  it  he  has  passed  from 

doubt  and  fear  into  a  rapture  of  faith.  Pas- 
sage after  passage  is  full  of  that  lyric  joy 
which,  men  tell  us,  belongs,  at  least,  in  the 
early  days  of  that  bright  conviction,  to  those 
who  feel  themselves  saved.  — Early  English 
Literature,  Stop  ford  A.  Brooke,  pp.  371- 
380. 

Speaking  of  Willobie's  well-known  Avi- 
so,, 1  the  Professor  [Saintsbury]  observes 
that  nothing  is  known  of  Willobie2  or  of 
Avisa.  If  the  Professor  had  known  any- 
thing about  the  work,  he  would  have  known 
that  Aviso?  is  simply  an  anagram  made 
up  of  the  initial  letters  of 

A^ans  V2xor  I3nviolata  S4emper  A5manda, 

and    that  nothing  is  known  of  Avisa.— 
Ephemera   Critica,  J.   C.   Collins,  p. '  101. 


1  Published  1594,  1596,  1605,  1609,  1635,     Suppressed  by 
Elizabeth,  1596. 

2  Advice  for  the  will-to-be.      Cp.  notes  pp.  48,  49. 


26  Shake-speare  England *s  Ulysses, 


THE  MASQUE 
—OF— 

LOVE'S  LABOR'S  WON. 

ACT  I. 

MUSES  REPRESENTED. 
RARITY — TIME — LOVE— DESIRE — NATURE. 


SCENE  I.      MOTHER  NATURE  and  FATHER  TIME. 
Nature  to  Time.  i=xxv. 

Let  those  who  are  in  favour  with  their  stars 
Of  public  honour  and  proud  titles  boast, 
Whilst  I,  whom  fortune  of  such  triumph  bars, 
Unlook'd  for  joy  in  that  I  honour  most.1 
Great  princes'  favourites  their  fair  leaves  spread 
But  as  the  marigold  at  the  sun's  eye, 
And  in  themselves  their  pride  lies  buried, 
For  at  a  frown  they  in  their  glory  die. 
The  painful  warrior  famoused  for  fight, 
After  a  thousand  victories  once  foil'd, 
Is  from  the  book  of  honour  razed  quite, 
And  all  the  rest  forgot  for  which  he  toil'd: 
Then  happy  I,  that  love  and  am  belov'd2 
Where  I  may  not  remove  nor  be  remov'd.3 


1  Cp.  the  Essex  lines,  p.  10. 

2  By  my  children;  the  characters  in  the  Masque. 


3  From  this  rare  Masque. 

Other  admirable  men  have  led  lives  in  some  sort  of  keeping  with  their  thought; 
but  this  man,  in  wide  contrast,  the  best  poet  led  an  obscure  and  profane  life. 
I  cannot  marry  this  fact  to  his  verse. — R.  W.  Emerson,  Shaksperian. 


Loves  Labor  s  Won;  or,    The  Enacted  Will.        27 


SCENE  I. 

Time  to  Nature.  2— xiv. 

Not  from  the  stars  do  I  my  judgment  pluck; 
And  yet  methinks  I  have  astronomy, 
But  not  to  tell  of  good,  or  evil  luck, 
Of  plagues,  of  dearths,  or  seasons'  quality; 
Nor  can  I  fortune  to  brief  minutes  tell, 
Pointing  to  each  his  thunder,  rain,  and  wind, 
Or  say  with  princes  if  it  shall  go  well, 
By  oft  predict  that  I  in  heaven  find: 
But  from  thine  eyes  my  knowledge  I  derive, 
And,  constant  stars,  in  them  I  read  such  art 
As  truth  and  beauty  shall  together  thrive, 
If  from  thyself  to  store  thou  wouldst  convert;1 
Or  else  of  thee  this  I  prognosticate: 
Thy  end  is  truth's  and  beauty's  doom  and  date. 


1  Mother  Nature  herself  a  dramatist.      Cp.  all  of  frontispage  10. 

The  rugged  Pyrrhus 

in  the  ominous  horse,1 

Hath  now 

With  heraldry 

horridly  trick'd2 

....Fathers,  Mothers,  Daughters,  Sons.3 
Hamlet,  n.  2. 

1  The  Turtle  Dove  [England's  Wooden  Horse]  being  the  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  Masque 
contains  the  name  of  Ulysses-Essex. 

2  Adorned. 

3  The  gods  and  goddesses  of  this  psychological  comedy. 


28  Shake-spear e  England's  Ulysses, 


ACT  I. 


Nature  to  Time.  3=  —  LXV. 

Since  brass,  nor  stone,  nor  earth,  nor  boundless  sea, 
But  sad  mortality  o'er-sways  their  power, 
How  with  this  rage  shall  beauty  hold  a  plea, 
Whose  action  is  no  stronger  than  a  flower  ? 
O,  how  shall  summer's  honey  breath  hold  out 
Against  the  wrackful  siege  of  batt'ring  days, 
When  rocks  impregnable  are  not  so  stout, 
Nor  gates  of  steel  so  strong,  but  Time  decays? 
O  fearful  meditation!  where,  alack, 
Shall  Time's  best  jewel  from  Time's  chest  lie  hid?1 
Or  what  strong  hand  can  hold  his  swift  foot  back  ? 
Or  who  his  spoil  of  Beauty  can  forbid? 
O,  none,  unless  this  miracle  have  might, 
That  in  black  ink2  my  love  may  still  shine  bright.  * 


1  Mother  Nature's  love  is  a  dual  one,  first,  through  modesty,  for  her  Phoenix 
Masque,  and  then  for  the  author  of  the  Masque.     Cp.  Drayton's  Son.,  p.  246. 

2  Cp.  the  acrostic  running  through  the  anti-masque,  pp.  160-168. 

The  Phoenix  prophecy  in  Henry  VIIL  is  also   dual,  Essex  usurping,  for  his 
phcenix  play,  Elizabeth's  emblem,  cp.  p.  220. 

Dualisms  of  the  Exposition. 

"A  double  darkness  drowns  the  mind." 
[Cp.  note  2,  p.  341.] 

!i.     Personal  Love  Sonnets. 
"Only  by  dying  born  the  very  same." 
2.     A  Dismantled  Masque. 

,     T^u       .     \  i.     The  Sonnets  of  1600,  a  Dismantled  Masque. 
Nature  s  Phoenix  j  ^     ^^  Qur  true  Sha9ke.speare. 

!i.      Prior  to  1601,  the  Dismantled  Masque  of  Lovers  Labor's 
Won. 
2.     Subsequent  to  1601,  Essex  and  the  Masque. 

„,,      <-,  r    ,         i  i.     Willobie's  Avisa. 

The  Sonnets  of  1609  \  2<     chester-s  Phoenix. 


Loves  Labor  s  Won;  or,    The  Enacted  Will.        29 


SCENE  I. 

Time  to  Nature.  4=Lvm. 

That  god  forbid,  that  made  me  first  your  slave, 
I  should  in  thought  control  your  times  of  pleasure, 
Or  at  your  hand  th'  account  of  hours  to  crave, 
Being  your  vassal,  bound  to  stay  your  leisure! 
O,  let  me  suffer,  being  at  your  beck, 
Th'  imprison'd  absence  of  your  liberty;1 
And  patience,  tame  to  sufferance,  bide  each  check, 
Without  accusing  you  of  injury. 
Be  where  you  list,  your  charter  is  so  strong, 
That  you  yourself  may  privilege  your  time 
To  what  you  will;  to  you  it  doth  belong 
Yourself  to  pardon  of  self-doing  crime.3 
I  am  to  wait,  though  waiting  so  be  hell: 
Not  blame  your  pleasure,  be  it  ill  or  well. 


1  Answering  line  14,  Son.  B-LXV.  ;  i.  e.,  while  it  is  your  pleasure  to  divulge  in 
"black  ink"  [acrostic]  the  name  of  your  chief  interpreter,  yet  the  requisite  ab- 
sence springing  from  this  liberty  will  prove  an  imprisonment  to  me. 

2  The  then  disesteem  of  dramatic  writing: 

By  the  way  sweet  Nature  tell  me  this, 
Is  this  the  Moly  that  is  excellent, 
For  strong  Enchantments,  and  the  Adder's  hiss? 
Love' s  Martyr,  cp.  frontispage  2. 

Of  the  man  Shakespeare  we  know  nothing.  From  the  nature  of  dramatic 
writing  the  author's  personality  is  inevitably  veiled;  no  letter,  no  saying  of  his 
or  description  by  any  intimate  friend,  has  been  preserved, — Songs  and  Son- 
nets of  Shakespeare,  F,  T.  Palgrave. 


30  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


ACT  I. 


Nature  to  Time.  5=xxm. 

As  an  imperfect  actor  on  the  stage, 
Who  with  his  fear  is  put  beside  his  part, 
Or  some  fierce  thing  replete  with  too  much  rage; 
Whose  strength's  abundance  weakens  his  own  heart; 
So  I,  for  fear  of  trust,  forget  to  say 
The  perfect  ceremony  of  love's  rite, 
And  in  mine  own  love's  strength  seem  to  decay, 
O'ercharg'd  with  burden  of  mine  own  love's  might. 
O,  let  my  books1  be  then  the  eloquence 
And  dumb  presagers  of  my  speaking  breast, 
Who  plead  for  love  and  look  for  recompense, 
More  than  that  tongue2  that  more  hath  more  express'd. 
O,  learn  to  read  what  silent  love  hath  writ: 
To  hear  with  eyes  belongs  to  love's  fine  wit. 


1  A  play,  cp.  Ben  Jonson's  introduction  to  Sejanus,  p.  222. 

Gosson  in  his  Schoole  of  Abuse,  contayning  a  pleasaunt  invective  against 
Poets,  Pipers,  Players,  Jesters,  and  such  like  Caterpillars  of  a  Commonwealth, 
1579,  mentions  "twoo  prose  Bookes  plaied  at  the  Belsauage;"  and  Hearne  tells 
us,  in  a  note  at  the  end  of  William  of  Worcester,  that  he  had  seen  "a  MS.  in 
the  nature  of  a  Play  or  Interlude,  intitled,  the  Booke  of  Sir  Thomas  Moore." 
— Richard  Farmer,  1767.  Cp.  Smith*  i  Eighteenth  Century  Essays  on 
Shakespeare,  p.  202. 

3  Time's  tongue,  cp.  Son.  2-xiv.  11.  n,  12,  and  note  4,  p.  121. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  or,    The  Enacted  Will.        31 


SCENE  I. 

Time  to  Nature.  6==LVii. 

Being  your  slave,  what  should  I  do  but  tend 
Upon  the  hours  and  times  of  your  desire  ? 
I  have  no  precious  time  at  all  to  spend, 
Nor  services  to  do,  till  you  require. 
Nor  dare  I  chide  the  world-without-end  hour 
Whilst  I,  my  sovereign,  watch  the  clock  for  you, 
Nor  think  the  bitterness  of  absence2  sour 
When  you  have  bid  your  servant  once  adieu; 
Nor  dare  I  question  with  my  jealous  thought 
Where  you  may  be,  or  your  affairs  suppose, 
But,  like  a  sad  slave,  stay  and  think  of  nought, 
Save,  where  you  are,  how  happy  you  make  those. 
So  true  a  fool  is  love  that  in  your  Will, 2 
Though  you  do  any  thing,  he  thinks  no  ill. 

\_Exeunt. 


1  A  time-server,  "foul  precurrer  of  the  fiend."     Cp.  1.  2,  p.  261. 

2  Cp.  Note  i,  Son.  4-Lvm.     It  seems  that  Nature's  "imprison'd  absence"  was 
to  write  a  Will  that  in  literature  and  law  could  not  be  paralleled  or  broken,  but 
was  to  last  "until  the  stars  totter  and  are  punctual  no  more  in  their  arithmetic." 

3  At  a  first  view  of  Scene  I.,  the  reader  will  suspect  that  a  blunder  has  been 
made  in  not  treating   the  entire  scene,  or  a  part  of   it,  as  a  Prologue,  from  the 
fact  of  the    characters   speaking  of   the  play  in   the  play — but  Jonson  seems  to 
have  decided  against  the   prologue.     Cp.  his  Love* s  Martyr  lines,  stanza  7, 
P-  397- 


32  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  II.      MOTHER  NATURE  and  THE  GOD  OF  RARITY. 

Rarity. 1  7=Lxii. 

Sin  of  self-love2  possesseth  all  mine  eye, 

And  all  my  soul,  and  all  my  every  part; 

And  for  this  sin  there  is  no  remedy, 

It  is  so  grounded  inward  in  my  heart. 

Methinks  no  face  so  gracious  is  as  mine, 

No  shape  so  true,  no  truth  of  such  account; 

And  for  myself  mine  own  worth  do  define, 

As  I  all  other  in  all  worths  surmount. 

But  when  my  glass  shows  me  myself  indeed, 

Beated  and  chopp'd  with  tann'd  antiquity, 

Mine  own  self-love  quite  contrary  I  read; 

Self  so  self-loving  were  iniquity. 

'Tis  thee, 3  myself,4  that  for  myself  I  praise, 
Painting  my  age  with  beauty  of  thy  days. 


1  Dr.  Martineau,  in  his  "Types  of  Ethical  Theory,"  affirms  that  the  assump- 
tion of  Plato  that  Wonder    is  the   primitive  intellectual  impulse;  has,  perhaps, 
its  most  emphatic  expression  in  his   Theatetus,  1550.,  where  he  says,  Wonder 
is  the  special  affection  of  a   philosopher;  for   philosophy  has  no   other  starting 
point  than  this. — Shake-speare  in  Baconian  Light,   Theobald,  p.  80. 

Rarity  the  father  of  Wonder,  "if  a  thing  ba  rare,  though  in  kind  it  be  no 
way  extraordinary,  yet  it  is  wondered  at  ...  for  wonder  is  the  child  of  Rar- 
ity." — Nov.  Org.,  ii.  xxxi.,  Francis  Bacon. 

2  Of  his  [Essex's]  other  writings,  his  "Darling  Piece  of  Love  and  Self-love" 
is  particularly  named  by  Sir  H.  Wotten.    It  is,  I  believe,  not  extant. — Lives  of 
the  Earls  of  Essex,  Devereux,  Vol.  II.  p.  195. 

3  Mother  Nature. 

*  Nature's  rare  Pho?nix  Masque,  represented  by  the  god  of  Rarity  in  Act  I. 


Loves  Labor s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.        33 


SCENE  II. 

Nature  to  the  god  of  Rarity.   8==cv. 

Let  not  my  love1  be  call'd  idolatry, 
Nor  my  beloved  as  an  idol  show, 
Since  all  alike  my  songs  and  praises  be 
To  one,  of  one,  still  such,  and  ever  so. 
Kind  is  my  love  to-day,  to  morrow  kind, 
Still  constant  in  a  wondrous  excellence;2 
Therefore  my  verse  to  constancy3  confin'd, 
One  thing  expressing,  leaves  out  difference. 
'Fair,  kind,  and  true'  is  all  my  argument, 
'Fair,  kind,  and  true'  varying  to  other  words; 
And  in  this  change  is  my  invention  spent, 
Three4  themes  in  one,  which  wondrous  scope  affords. 
'Fair,  kind,  and  true'  have  often  liv'd  alone, 
Which  three, 5  till  now,  never  kept  seat  in  one. 

1  This  rare  Phoenix  Masque  represented  by  the  god  of  Rarity  in  Act  I. 

2  Cp.  note  2,  p.  37. 

3  "And  thou  of  time  shall  live  beyond  the  end." — Draytort 's  Allusion  to  the 
Phoenix  [Masque],  1594.     Cp.  p.  246. 

*  The  evolution  of  all  things  is  explained  by  the  play  of  three  forces:  Neces- 
sity, Love  and  Hatred. — Empedocles. 

5  For  sources  of  the  Masque's  framework,  see  foundation  lines,  p.  253. 

Tower  Green — The  space  in  front  of  the  Chapel  is  called  Tower  Green,  and 
was  used  as  a  burial  ground;  in  the  middle  is  a  small  square  plot,  paved  with 
granite,  showing  the  site  on  which  stood  at  rare  intervals  the  scaffold  on  which 
private  executions  took  place.  It  has  been  specially  paved  by  the  orders  of  Her 
late  Majesty.  The  following  persons  are  known  to  have  been  executed  on  this 
spot: — 

1.  Queen  Anne  Boleyn,  igth  May,  1536. 

2.  Margaret  Countess  of  Salisbury,  2yth  May,  1541. 

3.  Queen  Katharine  Howard,  i3th  February,  1542. 

4.  Jane  Viscountess  Rochford,  i3th  February,  1542. 

5.  Lady  Jane  [Grey],  i2th  February,  1554. 

6.  Robert  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex,  25th  February,  1601. 

The  executioner  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  was  not  able  to  do  his  work  with  less 
than  three  strokes,  and  was  mobbed  and  beaten  by  the  populace  on  his  way 
home.  The  bodies  of  all  six  were  buried  in  the  Chapel  of  St.  Peter. — The 
Tozver  of  London,  W.  J.  Loftie,  p.  32. 


34  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


ACT  I. 


Rarity1  to  Nature.       9=xvi. 

But  wherefore  do  not  you  a  mightier  way 
Make  war  upon  this  bloody  tyrant,  Time  ? 
And  fortify  yourself  in  your  decay 
With  means  more  blessed  than  my  barren  rhyme? 
Now  stand  you  on  the  top  of  happy  hours, 
And  many  maiden  gardens  yet  unset 
With  virtuous  wish  would  bear  your  living  flowers, 
Much  liker  than  your  painted  counterfeit;2 
So  should  the  lines  of  life  that  life  repair, 
Which  this  time's  pencil  or  my  pupil  pen, 
Neither  in  inward  worth  nor  outward,  fair, 
Can  make  you  live  yourself  in  eyes  of  men. 
To  give  away  yourself  keeps  yourself  still, 
And  you  must  live,  drawn  by  your  own  sweet  skill. 


1  Beauty,  Truth,  and  RARITY, 
Grace  in  all  simplicity, 
Here  enclosed  in  cinders  lie. 
The  rinvni\  and  Turtle.      [Cp.  1.   i,  p.  259.] 

2  Point  of  contact  between  Loi>c ' s  Marlvr  and  the  Sonnets  of  1609: 

When  all  the  rest  beheld  this  counterfeit, 
They  knew  the  substance1  was  of  rarer  price: 
Some  gaz'd  upon  her  face,  on  which  did  wait 
As  messengers,  her  two  cellestial  eyes; 

Hyes  wanting  fire,  did  give  a  lightning  flame 
HOTJU  much  more  would  her  eyes  man's  senses  lame. 
Love's  J\/itr/vr,   Roberl  Chester,  p.   16. 

3  The  Masque  is  Nature's  own  drama.     Cp.  couplet,  Son.  y-Lxn. 

And  he,  the  man  whom  Nature  self  had  made. 
Spenser,  1591.      [Cp.  frontispage  10.] 

1  The  dialogue  between  Dame  Nature,  the  Phoenix  and  the  Turtle  in  Love's  Martyr  is 
play  by  example  for  this  Sonnet  Masque. 

One  Phoenix  born,  another  Phoenix  burn. 
Love's  Martyr,  p.  181, 


Loves  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.        35 


SCENE  II. 

Nature  to  Rarity.     IO=LII. 

So  am  I  as  the  rich,  whose  blessed  key 
Can  bring  him  to  his  sweet  up-locked  treasure, 
The  which  he  will  not  every  hour  survey, 
For  blunting  the  fine  point  of  seldom  pleasure. 
Therefore  are  feasts  so  solemn  and  so  rare, 
Since,  seldom  coming,  in  the  long  year  set, 
Like  stones  of  worth  they  thinly  placed  are, 
Or  captain  jewels  in  the  carcanet. 
So  is  the  time  that  keeps  you  as  my  chest,        } 
Or  as  the  wardrobe  which  the  robe  doth  hide,  j 
To  make  some* special  instant  special  blest, 
By  new  unfolding  his  imprison'd  pride.2 

Blessed  are  you,  whose  worthiness  gives  scope, 
Being  had,  to  triumph,  being  lack'd,  to  hope. 3 

\_Exeunt. 


1  Cp.  Son.   3-i.xv.,  1.  10. 

2  Cp.  note  2,  p.  31. 

3  As  yet  the  one  contemporary  book  [  IVillobiehis  Avisa1]  which  has  ever  been 
supposed  to  throw  any  direct  or  indirect  light  on  the  mystic  matter  remains  as 
inaccessible  and  unhelpful  to  students  as  though  it  had  never  been  published 
fifteen  years  earlier  than  the  date  of  publication  and  four  years  before  the  book 
in  which  Meres  notices  the  circulation  of  Shakespeare's  "Sugared  Sonnets  among 
his  private  friends." — A  Studv  of  Shakespeare^  Swinburne^  1879,  p.  62. 

1  Since  this  passage  first  went  to  press,  I  have  received  from  Dr.  Grosart  the  most  happy 
news  that  he  had  procured  a  perfect  copy  of  this  precious  volume,  and  will  shortly  add  it  to 
his  occasional  issues  of  golden  waifs  and  strays  forgotten  by  the  ebb-tide  of  time.  Not  even 
the  disinterment  of  Robert  Chester's  "glorified"  poem  [Love's  Martyr,  or  Rosalin's  Complaint], 
with  its  appended  jewels  of  verse  [The  Phoenix  and  Turtle  Dove]  from  Shakespeare's  very 
hand  and  from  others  only  less  great  than  Shakespeare's,  all  now  at  last  reset  in  their  strange 
original  framework,  was  a  gift  of  greater  price  than  this. — A  Study  of  Shakespeare \ 
r879,  P-  63. 


36  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT! 


SCENE  III.     THE  GODS  OF  LOVE  and  DESIRE. 
Desire  to  Love.          n=xxxvii. 

As  a  decrepit  father  takes  delight 

To  see  his  active  child  do  deeds  of  youth, 

So  I,  made  lame  by  fortune's  dearest  spite, 

Take  all  my  comfort  of  thy  worth  and  truth. 

For  whether  beauty,  birth,  or  wealth,  or  wit, 

Or  any  of  these  all,  or  all,  or  more, 

Entitled  in  their  parts,  do  crowned  sit, 

I  make  my  love  engrafted  to  this  store: 

So  then  I  am  not  lame,  poor,  nor  despised, 

Whilst  that  this  shadow  doth  such  substance  give, 

That  I  in  thy  abundance  am  suffic'd 

And  by  a  part  of  all  thy  glory  live. 

Look,  what  is  best,  that  best  I  wish  in  thee: 
This  wish  I  have;  then  ten  times  happy  me! 


The  Phoenix  and  Turtle  Dove.1 — "The  genuineness  of  the  contribution  with 
Shakespeare's  name  subscribed  is  now  generally  admitted,  though  no  successful 
attempt  has  yet  been  made  to  explain  the  allegory.  In  all  probability  the  oc- 
casion and  subject  of  the  whole  collection,  which  has  so  long  baffled  patient  re- 
search, will  some  day  be  discovered,  and  Shakespeare's  meaning  will  be  clear. 
There  is  not  much  to  'be  said  in  favor  of  the  view  that  the  Phoenix  shadows 
forth  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  the  Turtle-Dove  typifies  Robert  Devereux,  second 
Earl  of  Essex." — Shakespeare's  Sonnets  Etc.^  israet  Qollancz,  p.  xxx, 

1  Cp.  William  Shake-speare's  Will,  P.  257. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,  The  Enacted  Will.       37 


SCENE  III. 

Love  to  Desire.  i2=LVi. 

Sweet  love,  renew  thy  force;  be  it  not  said 
Thy  edge  should  blunter  be  than  appetite, 
Which  but  to-day  by  feeding  is  allay 'd, 
To-morrow  sharpen'd  in  his  former  might: 
So,  love,  be  thou;  although  to-day  thou  fill 
Thy  hungry  eyes  even  till  they  wink  with  fullness, 
To-morrow  see  again,  and  do  not  kill 
The  spirit  of  Love  with  a  perpetual  dullness. * 
Let  this  sad  int'rim  like  the  ocean  be 
Which  parts  the  shore  where  two  contracted  new 
Come  daily  to  the  banks,  that,  when  they  see 
Return  of  love,  more  blest  may  be  the  view; 
Else  call  it  winter,  which  being  full  of  care 
Makes  summer's  welcome  thrice  more  wish'd,  more 
rare. 


1  What  may  we  wonder  at?  O  where  is  learning? 
Where  is  all  difference  'twixt  the  good  and  bad? 
Where  is  Appelles  art?  where  is  true  cunning? 
Nay  where  is  all  the  vertue  may  be  had? 
Within  my  Turtle's1  bosom,  she  refines, 
More  then  some  loving  perfect  true  devines.2 
Love"1  s  Martyr,  Robert  Chester,  p.  135. 

1  The  Dramatis  Persona?  of  the  Masque. 

2  Although  Shake-speare  has  been  accounted  the  "priest  of  all  time,"  "the  great  teacher  in 
all  earthly  affairs,"  yet  I    question   whether   his   preaching  is  anywhere  so  pronounced  as  in 
this  Sonnet  Masque. 


38  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT! 


Desire  to  Love.          i3=XLin. 

When  most  I  wink,  then  do  mine  eyes  best  see, 
For  all  the  day  they  view  things  unrespected; 
But  when  I  sleep,  in  dreams  they  look  on  thee, 
And  darkly  bright  are  bright  in  dark  directed. 
Then  thou,  whose  shadow  shadows  doth  make  bright, 
How  would  thy  shadow's  form  form  happy  show 
To  the  clear  day  with  thy  much  clearer  light, 
When  to  unseeing  eyes  thy  shade  shines  so! 
How  would,  I  say,  mine  eyes  be  blessed  made 
By  looking  on  thee  in  the  living  day, 
When  in  dead  night1  thy  fair  imperfect  shade 
Through  heavy  sleep  on  sightless  eyes  doth  stay! 
All  days  are  nights  to  see  till  I  see  thee, 
And  nights,  bright  days  when  dreams  do  show  thee  me. 


1  'In  night'  quoth  she,  'desire  sees  best  of  all.' 
Venus  and  Adam's,  1.  720. 

In  the  case  of  the  authorship  of  the  Shakespearian  Plays,  there  are  circum- 
stances of  difficulty  which  are  common  to  both  the  candidates  [Shakspere  and 

Bacon]  for  this  supreme  distinction The  contemporaries  of  the  great 

dramatist  were  loud  in  their  admiration  of  his  work,  but  they  say  nothing  of  the 
man.  They  talk  of  the  honey-tongued  Shakespeare,  but  they  do  not  tell  us 
who  the  honey-tongued  Shakespeare  was,1  ....  whoever  was  entitled  to  that 

glorious  name  he  never  claimed   it As  to  the    Player,  the   great  nobles 

who  are  said  to  have  been  his  patrons  are  wholly  silent.  A.s.sv.v  makes  no  men- 
tion of  his  name;  Southampton  never  alludes  to  him;  Pembroke  was  not  ac- 
quainted with  him.  —  The  Mystery  of  William  Shakespeare,  Judge  Webb, 
Baconian. 

1  Cp.  The  Buzzing  Bee's  Complaint^  p.  335. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,   The  Enacted  Will.        39 


SCENE  III. 

Love  to  Desire.    i4=cxxix. 

Th'  expense  of  spirit  in  a  waste  of  shame 
Is  lust  in  action;  and  till  action,  lust 
Is  perjur'd  murd'rous,  bloody,  full  of  blame. 
Savage,  extreme,  rude,  cruel,  not  to  trust; 
Enjoy'd  no  sooner,  but  despised  straight, 
Past  reason  hunted,  and  no  sooner  had, 
Past  reason  hated;  as  a  swallow'd  bait, 
On  purpose  laid  to  make  the  taker  mad; 
Mad  in  pursuit,  and  in  possession  so; 
Had,  having,  and  in  quest  to  have,  extreme; 
A  bliss  in  proof,  and  prov'd,  a  very  woe; 
Before,  a  joy  propos'd;  behind,  a  dream. 

All  this  the  world  well  knows;  yet  none  knows  well 
To  shun  the  heav'n  that  leads  men  to  this  hell.1 


1  The  mounting  Phoenix,1  chast  desire, 
'/'his  Virtue  Frani*  d,  to  conquer  Vice, 
This  Not-seene  Nimph,1  this  Heatlesse  Fire, 
This  Chast  Found  Bird,  of  noble  price, 
Was  nam'd  Avisal  by  decree, 
That  name  and  nature  might  agree. 

Henrv  Willobie,  1594,  p.  152. 

The  time  will  come,  when  the  unreasoning  conservatism  in  the  public  mind 
on  the  subject  of  the  authorship  of  "Shake-speare"  will  be  universally  regretted 
as  a  reflection  upon  the  scholarship  of  our  age.  From  the  banks  of  the  Mis- 
souri;2 from  the  wheat  fields  of  Minnesota;  from  far-off  Melbourne;  out  of  the 
heart  of  humanity  somewhere;  a  response  in  due  time  is  sure  to  come. — Bac- 
on vs.  Shaksperc,  Edu'in  Reed,  Baconian. 

1  Allegory  for  the  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won. 

z  "In  requital  of  your  prophecy,  hark  you." — Meas.  for  Meas.  n.  i. 


40  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


ACT  I. 


Desire  to  Love.    15 — xxxvi. 

Let  me  confess  that  we  two  must  be  twain, 
Although  our  undivided  loves  are  one; 
So  shall  those  blots  that  do  with  me  remain, 
Without  thy  help,  by  me  be  borne  alone. 
In  our  two  loves  there  is  but  one  respect, 
Though  in  our  lives  a  separable  spite, 
Which  though  it  alter  not  love's  sole  effect, 
Yet  doth  it  steal  sweet  hours  from  love's  delight. 
I  may  not  evermore  acknowledge  thee, 
Lest  my  bewailed  guilt  should  do  thee  shame, ! 
Nor  thou  with  public  kindness  honour  me, 
Unless  thou  take  that  honour  from  thy  name: 
But  do  not  so;  I  love  thee  in  such  sort 
As,  thou  being  mine,  mine  is  thy  good  report. 


1  How  much  more  would  her  [the  Masque]  eyes  man's  senses  tame. 
Robert  Chester's  Love's  Martyr,  p.  16. 

Can  Britaine  breede  no  Phoenix1  bird, 

No  constant  feme  in  English  field? 

To  Greece  to  Rome,  is  there  no  third, 

Hath  Albion  none  that  will  not  yield? 
If  this  affirme  you  will  not  dare, 
Then  let  me  Faith  with  Faith  compare. 
Willobie'1  s  Ai'i'sa,1  p.  152. 

1  From  the  foot  notes  to  Act  I,  the  reader  will  perceive  that  Chester's  Phoenix  and  Willobie' s 
Aviso,  are  neither  bird,  woman  nor  person  but  dual  allegories  for  the  dismantled  Masque  pub- 
lished under  the  name  of  Shake-speare' s  Sonnets  in  1609. 


Loves  Labor s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.        41 


SCENE  III. 

Love  to  Desire.          i6=xxxix. 

O,  how  thy  worth  with  manners  may  I  sing, 
When  thou  art  all  the  better  part  of  me? 
What  can  mine  own  praise  to  mine  own  self  bring? 
And  what  is  't  but  mine  own  when  I  praise  thee? 
Even  for  this  let  us  divided  live, 
And  our  dear  love  lose  name  of  single  one, 
That  by  this  separation  I  may  give 
That  due  to  thee  which  thou  deserv'st  alone. 
O  absence,  what  a  torment  wouldst  thou  prove, 
Were  it  not  thy  sour  leisure  gave  sweet  leave 
To  entertain  the  time  with  thoughts  of  love, 
Which  time  and  thoughts  so  sweetly  doth  deceive, 
And  that  thou  teachest  how  to  make  one  twain, 
By  praising  him  here  who  doth  hence  remain! 


Penelope  must  now  contend 
For  chaste  renown:  whose  constant  heart, 
Both  Greeks  and  Latines  all  commend 
With  poore  Aviso,  new  upstart, 

I  scorne  to  speake  much  in  this  case, 

Her  prayses  Rivall  is1  so  base. 

Henry  Willobie?  1594. 

1  That  is,  "Rivall's  prayses  are." 

In  one  sense,  no  doubt,  Shakespere  is  unequal — as  life  is.  He  is  not  always  at  the  tragic 
heights  of  Othello  and  Hamlet,  at  the  comic  raptures  of  Falstaff  and  Sir  Toby,  at  the  romantic 
ecstasies  of  Romeo  and  Titania.  Neither  is  life.  But  he  is  always — and  this  is  the  extraordi- 
nary and  almost  inexplicable  difference,  not  merely  between  him  and  all  his  contemporaries, 
but  between  him  and  all  other  writers— at  the  height  of  the  Particular  situation. — History  of 
English  Literature,  Saintsbury,  p.  164. 

2  For  the  identity  of  this  hitherto  unknown  and  never-again-heard-of  poet  [except  in  Wtllo- 
bie's  Avz'sa],  see  pen  names  of  Essex,  frontispiece. 


42  Shake-spectre  England' s  Ulysses, 


ACT  I 


Desire  to  Love.        i7=Lxxiv. 

But  be  contented:  when  that  fell  arrest 
Without  all  bail  shall  cany  me  away, 
My  life  hath  in  this  line  some  interest, 
Which  for  memorial  still -with  thee  shall  stay. 
When  thou  reviewest  this,  thou  dost  review 
The  very  part  was  consecrate  to  thee: 
The  earth  can  have  but  earth,  which  is  his  due; 
My  spirit  is  thine,  the  better  part  of  me: 
So  then  thou  hast  but  lost  the  dregs1  of  life, 
The  prey  of  worms,  my  body  being  dead, 
The  coward  conquest  of  a  wretch's  knife, 
Too  base  of  thee  to  be  remembered. 

The  worth  of  that  is  that  which  it  contains, 
And  that  is  this,  and  this  with  thee  remains. 


1  The  vanity  and  malignity  of  the  affections,  leave  nothing  but  impotency  and 
confusion. — Int.  of  Nature,  Francis  Bacon,  p.  67. 

But  yet,  if  further  you  will  have  mv  conceit ,  the  order,  words,  and  frame  of 
the  whole  discourse,  force  me  to  think  that  which  I  am  unwilling  to  say:  That 
this  name  insinuateth,  that  there  was  never  such  a  woman  scene,  as  here  is  de- 
scribed. For  the  word  A'visa  is  compounded  fafter  the  Greeke  manner]  of  the 
privative  particle  A,  which  signifieth  Non:  and  of  the  participle  J7su*\  /V.sv/, 
Ft  sum,  which  signifieth,  Seene:  So  that  .-ITI'SK  should  signifie  [by  this]  as  much 
as  Non  Visa,  that  is:  Such  a  woman  as  was  never  seene.  Which  if  it  bee  true, 
then  A  visa1  is  yet  unborne,  that  must  rejoyce  in  this  prayse.  Tlic  Apolo^fe, 
Willobie1  s  Avisa,  p.  145. 

1  Allegory  for  the  Masque  of  Love's  Labor1  s  Won. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.        43 


SCENE  III. 

Love  to  Desire,    i  S=CXLIX. 

Canst  thou,  O  cruel!  say  I  love  thee  not, 
When  I  against  myself1  with  thee  partake? 
Do  I  not  think  on  thee,  when  I  forgot 
Am  of  myself,  all  tyrant  for  thy  sake? 
Who  hateth  thee  that  I  do  call  my  friend? 
On  whom  frown'st  thou  that  I  do  fawn  upon? 
Nay,  if  thou  lower'st  on  me,  do  I  not  spend 
Revenge  upon  myself  with  present  moan? 
What  merit  do  I  in  myself  respect, 
That  is  so  proud  thy  service  to  despise, 
When  all  my  best  doth  worship  thy  defect, 
Commanded  by  the  motion  of  thine  eyes? 

But,  love,  hate  on,  for  now  I  know  thy  mind, 
Those  that  can  see  thou  lov'st,  and  I  am  blind. 


1  She  quels  by  Reason  filthy  lust, 
Shee  chokes  by  Wisdome  leude  Desires, 
Shee  shunnes  the  baite  that  fondlings  trust, 
From  Sathan  Heights  she  quite  retires, 
Then  let  A^'isd'sl  prayse  be  spread, 
When  rich  and  poore,  when  all  are  dead. 
Henry  Wityobie,  1594,  p.  154. 

From  Sappho  and  Solomon  to  Shelley  and  Mr.  Swinburne,  many  bards  have 
spoken  excellently  of  love:  but  what  they  have  said  could  be  cut  out  of  Shake- 
spere's  Sonnets  better  said  than  they  have  said  it,  and  yet  enough  remain  to  fur- 
nish forth  the  greate.st  of  poets. — History  of  English  Literature,  Saint  sbury, 
p.  164. 

1  Allegory,  The  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won. 


44  Shake-spectre  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  I. 

Desire  to  Love.        i9=cxxxvi. 

If  thy  soul  check  thee  that  I  come  so  near, 
Swear  to  thy  blind  soul  that  I  was  thy  Will, ! 
And  'Will,'2  thy  soul  knows,  is  admitted  there; 
Thus  far  for  love,  my  love-suit,  sweet,  fulfil. 
'Will'3  will  fulfil  the  treasure  of  thy  love, 
Ay,  fill  it  full  with  wills, 4  and  my  will5  one. 
In  things  of  great  receipt  with  ease  we  prove 
Among  a  number  one  is  reckon'd  none: 
Then  in  the  number  let  me  pass  untold, 
Though  in  thy  store's  account  I  one  must  be; 
For  nothing  hold  me,  so  it  please  thee  hold 
That  nothing  me,  a  something  sweet  to  thee: 
Make  but  my  name  thy  love,  and  love  that  still, 
And  then  thou  lov'st  me,  for  my  name  is  Will. 

\_Exeunt. 

To  what  depth  of  vapidity  Shakespeare  and  contemporary  funsters  could  sink 
is  nowhere  better  illustrated  than  in  the  favour  they  bestowed  on  efforts  to  ex- 
tract amusement  from  the  parities  and  disparities  of  form  and  meaning  subsist- 
ing between  the  words 'will' and  'wish.' — rFhe  'iri/T  Sonnets,  Sidney  Lee,  p.  418. 

1  Poet,  interpreter  of  Love's  "blind  soul." 

'Willy'  was  a  general  name  for  a  Shepherd;  i.  e.,  poet. — Shakespeare's  Son- 
nets, Massey,  p.  511. 

Our  pleasant  Willy,  ah!  is  dead  of  late. — Tears  of  the  Muses,  Spenser. 

The  characters  in  the  Masque  call  themselves  Poets  seven  times  and  Muses, 
fifteen  times.  The  goddess  Hope  designates  Knowledge  as  a  god  in  Son.  63-cx. 

2  The  poet  Desire,  "thy  soul  knows,  is  admitted  there." 

3  The  poet  Desire. 

*  Self-will  and  good  will. 

5  Wish,  good  will. 

6  Love  only  my  name  [something  less  than  loving  myself]  and  then  thou  lovest 
me,  for  my  name  is  Will  .  .  .  .  i.  e.,  all  Desire. — Shakespeare"1  s  Sonnets,  DOTJU- 
den,  p.  238. 


Loves  Labor s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.        45 


SCENE  IV. 

MOTHER  NATURE,  FATHER  TIME  and  THE  GODS  OF 
RARITY,  LOVE  and  DESIRE. 

Nature  to  Rarity.        2o=Lxiv. 

When  I  have  seen  by  Time's  fell  hand  defac'd 
The  rich  proud  cost  of  outworn  buried  age ; 
When  sometime  lofty  towers  I  see  down-raz'd 
And  brass  eternal  slave  to  mortal  rage; 
When  I  have  seen  the  hungry  ocean  gain 
Advantage  on  the  kingdom  of  the  shore, 
And  the  firm  soil  win  of  the  watery  main. 
Increasing  store  with  loss,  and  loss  with  store; 
When  I  have  seen  such  interchange  of  state, 
Or  state  itself  confounded  to  decay; 
Ruin  hath  taught  me  thus  to  ruminate, 
That  Time  will  come  and  take  my  love  away. 
This  thought  is  as  a  death,  which  cannot  choose 
But  weep  to  have  that  which  it  fears  to  lose. 


In  Lavine  land  though  Livie  boast, 
There  have  beene  scene  a  Constant  Dame: 
Though  Rome  lament  that  she  have  lost 
The  garland  of  her  rarest  fame 
Yet  now  ye  see  that  here  is  found, 
As  great  a  faith  in  English  ground.1 

Though  Collatine  have  dearly  bought, 
To  high  renowne  a  lasting  life, 
And  found,  that  most  in  vaine  have  sought, 
To  have  a  faire  and  constant  wife 

Yet  Tarquine  pluckt  his  glistering  grape, 
And  Shake-speare2  paints  poore  Lucrece  rape. 
Willobie1  s  Amsa,  1594,  P-  r5- 

1  Aviso.,  allegory  for  this  Sonnet  Masque. 

2  The  first  mention  of  Shake-speare's  name  in  literature. 


46  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  I. 

Time  to  Rarity.          2i=xi. 

As  fast  as  thou  shalt  wane,  so  fast  thou  grow'st, 
In  one  of  thine  from  that  which  thou  departest; 
And  that  fresh  blood  which  youngly  thou  bestow' st 
Thou  may'st  call  thine  when  thou  from  youth  convertest. 
Herein  lives  wisdom,  beauty,  and  increase; 
Without  this,  folly,  age,  and  cold  decay: 
If  all  were  minded  so,  the  times  should  cease 
And  threescore  year  would  make  the  world  away. 
Let  those  whom  Nature  hath  not  made  for  store, 
Harsh,  featureless,  and  rude,  barrenly  perish: 
Look,  whom  she  best  endow'd,  she  gave  the  more; 
Which  bounteous  gift  thou  shouldst  in  bounty  cherish; 
She  carv'd  thee  for  her  seal,  and  meant  thereby 
Thou  shouldst  print  more,  not  let  that  copy  die. 


It  seems  certain  that  the  author  of  the  wondrous  plays  was  one  of  the  noblest 
of  men,  and  yet  it  is  true  we  know  but  little  of  Shakespeare;  no  letter  of  his  to 
any  human  being  has  been  found,  and  no  line  written  by  him  can  be  shown;  but 
we  do  know  Bacon,  and  we  know  that  he  was  a  time-server  of  church  and  king 
and  a  corrupt  judge  and  that  'he  could  not  have  written  these  plays — conse- 
quently they  must  have  been  written  by  -a  comparatively  unknown  man — that  is 
to  say,  by  a  man  who  was  known  by  no  other  writings.  —  Shakespeare  A  Lecture, 
Robert  G.  Ingersoll,  Shaksperian. 


Loves  Labor s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.        47 


SCENE  IV. 

Nature  to  Rarity.      22=LXiii. 

Against  my  love  shall  be,  as  I  am  now,  ) 

With  Time's  injurious  hand  crush'd  and  o'erworn;  )   ] 
When  hours  have  drain'd  his  blood  and  fill'd  his  brow 
With  lines  and  wrinkles;  when  his  youthful  morn 
Hath  travell'd  on  to  age's  steepy  night, 
And  all  those  beauties  whereof  now  he's  king 
Are  vanishing  or  vanish'd  out  of  sight, 
Stealing  away  the  treasure  of  his  spring; 
For  such  a  time  do  I  now  fortify 
Against  confounding  age's  cruel  knife, 
That  he  shall  never  cut  from  memory 
My  sweet  love's  beauty,  though  my  lover's  life: 
His  beauty  shall  in  these  black  lines  be  seen, 
And  they  shall  live,  and  he  in  them  still  green. 


1  For  Shake-speare's  indebtedness  to  Sophocles  in  the  use  of  irony,  see  Stud- 
ies in  Shakespeare,  J.  Ckurton  Collins,  p.  92. 
3  Cp.  note  i,  p.  33. 

Let  wise  Ulysses  constant  mate, 

Vaunt  noble  birth  her  richest  boast, 

Yet  will  her  challenge  come  too  late, 

When  pride  and  wealth  have  done  their  most, 
For  this  Aviso,  from  above 
Came  down,  whose  sire  is  mighty  Jove.1 

Willobie1  s  Avisa,  p.  137. 

To  be  told  that  he  played  a  trick  on  his  brother  player  in  a  licentious  amour, 
or  that  he  died  of  a  drunken  frolic  ....  does  not  exactly  inform  us  of  the  man 
who  wrote  "Lear." — Ilallam. 

1  Cp.  note  2,  p.  37.  and  use  of  the  word  in  Hamlet,  note  2,  p.  237- 


48  Shake-speare  England '  s  Ulysses, 


ACT  I. 

Time  to  Desire.1       23=— vm. 

Music  to  hear,  why  hear'st  thou  music  sadly  ? 
Sweets  with  sweets  war  not,  joy  delights  in  joy: 
Why  lov'st  thou  that  which  thou  receiv'st  not  gladly, 
Or  else  receiv'st  with  pleasure  thine  annoy? 
If  the  true  concord  of  well-tuned  sounds, 
By  unions  married,  do  offend  thine  ear, 
They  do  but  sweetly  chide  thee,  who  confounds 
In  singleness  the  parts  that  thou  shouldst  bear. 
Mark  how  one  string,  sweet  husband  to  another, 
Strikes  each  in  each  by  mutual  ordering; 
Resembling  sire,  and  child,  and  happy  mother, 
Who  all  in  one,  one  pleasing  note  do  sing: 

Whose  speechless  song,  being  many,  seeming  one, 
Sings  this  to  thee:  'thou  single  wilt  prove  none.' 


1  If  music  be  the  food  of  love,  play  on: 

Give  me  excess  of  it;  that,  surfeiting, 

The  appetite  may  sicken;  and  so  die. 

Twelfth  Night,  i.  i. 

1  Let  the  priest  in  surplice  white, 
That  defunctive  music  can, 
Be  the  death-divining  Swan 
Lest  the  requiem  lack  his  right. 

The  Phoenix  and  Turtle  Dove. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Henry  Willobie's  alleged  authorship  is  a  literary 
hoax,  and  that  the  publication  contained  matter  of  a  satirical  and  perhaps  libel- 
lous nature;  hence  in  1596  it  was  "called  in." — Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  Israel 
Gollancz,  p.  xviii. 


Love  s  Labor  s  IVon;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       49 


SCENE  IV. 


Nature  to  Love.  24=ix. 

Is  it  for  fear  to  wet  a  widow's  eye, 

That  thou  consum'st  thyself  in  single  life? 

Ah!  if  thou  issueless  shalt  hap  to  die, 

The  world  will  wail  thee,  like  a  makeless  wife; 

The  world  will  be  thy  widow  and  still  weep, 

That  thou  no  form  of  thee  has  left  behind, } 

When  every  private  widow  well  may  keep, 

By  children's  eyes  her  husband's  shape  in  mind. 

Look,  what  an  unthrift  in  the  world  doth  spend, 

Shifts  but  his  place,  for  still  the  world  enjoys  it; 

But  beauty's  waste  hath  in  the  world  an  end, 

And  kept  unus'd,  the  user  so  destroys  it. 

No  love  toward  others  in  that  bosom  sits    . 

That  on  himself  such  murd'rous  shame  commits. 

\_Exeunt. 


1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  47. 

Doubt  is  justifiable  as  to  whether  the  story  of  "Avisa"  and  her  lovers  is  not  fic- 
titious. In  a  preface  signed  Hadrian  Dorell,  the  writer,  after  mentioning  that  the 
alleged  author  [Willobie]  was  abroad,  discusses  somewhat  enigmatically  whether 
or  no  the  work  is  "a  poetical  fiction."  In  a  new  edition  of  1596  the  same  editor 
decides  the  question  in  the  affirmative. — A  Life  of  William  Shakespeare,  Sidney 
Lee,  p.  157. 


50  Shake-spear e  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  II. 

MUSES  REPRESENTED. 
WONDER — TIME — REASON— ENVY — NATURE. 


SCENE  I.      Enter  THE  GODDESS  REASON  and  THE  GOD 
OF  WONDER. 

Wonder.1  25=0x1. 

Love  is  too  young  to  know  what  conscience  is; 
Yet  who  knows  not  conscience  is  born  of  love  ?2 
Then,  gentle  cheater,  urge  not  my  amiss, 
Lest  guilty  of  my  faults  thy  sweet  self  prove. 
For,  thou  betraying  me,  I  do  betray 
My  nobler  part  to  my  gross  body's  treason; 
My  soul  doth  tell  my  body  that  he  may 
Triumph  in  love;  flesh  stays  no  farther  reason; 
But,  rising  at  thy  name,  doth  point  out  thee, 
As  his  triumphant  prize.      Proud  of  this  pride, 
He  is  contented  thy  poor  drudge  to  be, 
To  stand  in  thy  affairs,  fall  by  thy  side. 
.  No  want  of  conscience  hold  it  that  I  call 
Her  'love'  for  whose  dear  love  I  rise  and  fall. 


1  Wonder  is  the  child  of  Rarity. — Nov.  Org,,  xxxi. 

2  Those  lips  [Reason's]  that  Love' sown  hand  did  make,     Cp.  Son,  47-cxLV. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       5 1 


SCENE  I. 

Reason.  26=0x1. 

O,  for  my  sake  do  you  with  Fortune  chide, 
The  guilty  goddess  of  my  harmful  deeds, 
That  did  not  better  for  my  life  provide, 
Than  public  means  which  public  manners  breeds. ! 
Thence  comes  it  that  my  name  receives  a  brand, 3 
And  almost  thence  my  nature  is  subdued  ) 
To  what  it  works  in,  like  the  dyer's  hand:  f  3 
Pity  me  then  and  wish  I  w^ere  renew'd; 
Whilst,  like  a  willing  patient,   I  will  drink 
Potions  of  eisel  'gainst  my  strong  infection; 
No  bitterness  that  I  will  bitter  think, 
Nor  double  penance,  to  correct  correction. 
Pity  me  then,  dear  friend,  arid  I  assure  ye 
Even  that  your  pity  is  enough  to  cure  me. 


1  Cp.  Son.  42-cxxxvn.  11.  6  and  10. 

2 O  strange  excuse, 

When  reason  is  the  bawd  to  lust's  abuse. 
I'eniis  (tnd  Adonis,  1.  791. 

3  It  is  a  false  assertion  that  the  sense  of  man  is  the  measure  of  things:  on  the 
contrary,  all  perceptions  as  well  of  the  sense  as  of  the  mind  are  according  to 
the  measure  of  the  individual  and  not  according  to  the  measure  of  the  universe, 
— Nov.  Org.,  XLI. 


52  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  II, 


}\\mdcr.  27==xxxv. 

No  more  be  griev'd  at  that  which  thou  hast  done : 
Roses  have  thorns,  and  silver  fountains  mud; 
Clouds  and  eclipses  stain  both  moon  and  sun, 
And  loathsome  canker  lives  in  sweetest  bud. 
All  men  make  faults,  and  even  I  in  this, 
Authorizing  thy  trespass  with  compare, 
Myself  corrupting,  salving  thy  amiss, 
Excusing  thy  sins,  more  than  thy  sins  are; 
For  to  thy  sensual  fault  I  bring  in  sense— 
Thy  adverse  party  is  thy  advocate— 
And  'gainst  myself  a  lawful  plea  commence: 
Such  civil  war  is  in  my  love  and  hate, 
That  I  an  accessary  needs  must  be 
To  that  sweet  thief  which  sourlv  robs  from  me. 


1  Feed  yourselves  with  questioning, 

That  reason  wonder  may  diminish. 

As  You  Like  It,  v.  4,  1.  145, 


Love  s  Labor  s   Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       53 


SCENE  I. 


Reason.  28=LX. 

Like  as  the  waves  make  towards  the  pebbled  shore, 
So  do  our  minutes  hasten  to  their  end; 
Each  changing  place  with  that  which  goes  before, 
In  sequent  toil  all  forwards  do  contend. 
Nativity,  once  in  the  main  of  light, 
Crawls  to  maturity,  wherewith  being  crown 'd, 
Crooked  eclipses  'gainst  his  glory  fight, 
And  Time  that  gave  doth  now  his  gift  confound. 
Time  doth  transfix  the  flourish  set  on  youth 
And  delves  the  parallels  in  beauty's  brow, 
Feeds  on  the  rarities1  of  nature's  truth, 
And  nothing  stands  but  for  his  scythe  to  mow: 
And  yet  to  times  in  hope  my  verse  shall  stand, 
Praising  thy  worth,  despite  his  cruel  hand. 


1  The  dissipation  of  wonder  by  the  advent  of  knowledge.  .  .  .  Wonder  is  the 
vestibule  of  knowledge  the  sentiment  that  is  left  when  we  pass  beyond  the 
porch  and  enter  the  dwelling —  Shakespeare  in  Kaconiun  Light,  Theo- 
bald, pp.  83,  84. 


54  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  II 

Wonder.  29=cxxv. 

Wer't  aught  to  me  I  bore  the  canopy, 
With  my  extern  the  outward  honouring. 
Or  laid  great  bases  for  eternity, 
Which  prove  more  short  than  waste  or  ruining? 
Have  I  not  seen  dwellers  on  form  and  favour 
Lose  all,  and  more,  bv  paying  too  much  rent, 
For  compound  sweet  foregoing  simple  savour. 
Pitiful  thrivers,  in  their  gazing  spent?1 
No,  let  me  be  obsequious  in  thy  heart, 
And  take  thou  my  oblation,  poor  but  free, 
Which  is  not  mix'd  with  seconds,  ~  knows  no  art, 
But  mutual  render,  only  me  for  thee. 

Hence,  thou  suborn'd3  informer!  a  true  soul 
When  most  impeach'd  stands  least  in  thy  control. 


1  The  characters  being  Pythagoreans,  H'ottt/t-r  was  AWr/'/v  in  Act  I.  and  saw 
Love  and  Desire  dismissed  by  Time  and  Xature. — Act  I.  Scene  IV. 

2  The  god  of  Wonder  being  the  favorite  of  Xalure,  the  antithesis  demands  that 
the  goddesses  Reason  and  Envy  should  be  the  fools  of   Time  and  they  are  so 
shown  in  Son.  32-cxxiv. 

3  Cp.  Son.  43-cLii.,  1.  6. 

....  She  hath  prosperous  art, 
When  she  will  play  with  reason  and  discourse. 
Measure  for  Measure,  i.  2,  1.   190. 

Yea,  every  idle,  nice,  and  wanton  reason. 

Second  Henry  //'. ,  iv.   i,  1.   191. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       55 


SCENE  I. 


Reason.  3O=cxLvi. 

Poor  soul,  the  centre  of  my  sinful  earth, 
Trick'd1  by  these  rebel  powers2  that  thee  array, 
Why  dost  thou  pine  within  and  suffer  dearth, 
Painting  thy  outward  walls  so  costly  gay? 
Why  so  large  cost,  having  so  short  a  lease, 
Dost  thou  upon  thy  fading  mansion  spend? 
Shall  worms,  inheritors  of  this  excess, 
Eat  up  thy  charge?  is  this  thy  body's  end? 
Then,  soul,  live  thou  upon  thy  servant's  loss, 
And  let  that  pine  to  aggravate  thy  store; 
Buy  terms  divine  in  selling  hours  of  dross; 
Within  be  fed,  without  be  rich  no  more: 

So  shalt  thou  feed  on  death,  that  feeds  on  men, 
And  death  once  dead,  there's  no  more  dying  then.3 

^Curtain. 


1  Trick'd    [adorned],  the  missing  word  is  supplied  by  Hamlet.     Cp.  note   i, 
p.  27. 

2  Time  and  Reason.     Cp.  Son.  28  i.x.  11.  9,  10. 

Be  wary  then;  best  safety  lies  in  fear: 
Youth  to  itself  rebels,  though  none  else  near. 
Hamlet,  i.  3,  1.  44. 

3  The  philosophic  complexion  of    the  Masque  is  nowhere    better  illustrated 
than  in  this  Sonnet. 


56  Shake-speare  England*  s  Ulysses, 


ACT  II, 

SCENE  II.     Enter  MOTHER  NATURE  and  FATHER  TIME. 
Time.  3i=LTX. 

If  there  be  nothing  new,  but  that  which  is 
Hath  been  before,  how  are  our  brains  beguil'd, 
Which,  labouring  for  invention,  bear  amiss 
The  second  burthen  of  a  former  child!1 
O,  that  record  could  with  a  backward  look, 
Even  of  five  hundred  courses  of  the  sun, 
Show  me  your  image  in  some  antique  book,  \ 
Since  mind2  at  first  in  character  was  done!     j 
That  I  might  see  what  the  old  world  could  say 
To  this  composed  wonder  of  your  frame; 
Whe'r  we  are  mended,  or  whe'r  better  they, 
Or  whether  revolution  be  the  sam.e. 
O,  sure  I  am,  the  wits  of  former  days 
To  subjects  worse  have  given  admiring  praise. 


1  In  Act  I.  the  god  of  Rarity  was  the  favorite  of  Xaturc.      In  Act  II.  envious 
and  servile  Time  being  the  disturbing  element  in  the  play,  naturally  has  an  aver- 
sion to    Wonder,  the  child  of  Rarity. 

2  It  must  be  born  in  mind  that  ths  characters  in  tha  play  are  the  gods  and 
goddesses  of  Homer  in  extenso  [Cp.  Dedicatory  Son.  LXXVII.,  11.  9  to  14,],  and 
that  the  play  is  partly  founded  on  the  lines  of  Aristophanes.      "There  were  no 
gods  'til  Love  mingled  all  things;  and  by  the  mixture  of  the  different  with  the 
different  Heaven  came  to  be,  and  Ocean,  and  Earth  and  the  undying  race  of  all 
the  blessed  gods."     The  ardent  love  between  the  characters  is  merely  Platonic, 
unmixed  with  carnal  desire  and  regards  the  Mind  only. 

All  is  mind, 

As  far  from  spot,  as  pDssible  definir'-;. 

John  Marston,  in  I.'n'c  s  J//r.'vr,  p   187. 
15  Cp.  Sen.  9j-cvi. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       57 


SCENE  II. 

Nature.  32=cxxiv. 

If  my  dear  love1  were  but  the  child  of  state, 
It2  might  for  Fortune's  bastard  be  unfather'd, 
As  subject  to  Time's  love  or  to  Time's  hate, 
Weeds  among  weeds,  or  flowers  with  flowers  gather'd. 
No,  iuwas  builded  far  from  accident; 
It  suffers  not  in  smiling  pomp,  nor  falls 
Under  the  blow  of  thralled  discontent, 
Whereto  th'  inviting  time  our  fashion  calls: 
It  fears  not  policy,  that  heretic, 
Which  works  on  leases  of  short-numb 'red  hours, 
But  all  alone  stands  hugely  politic, 
That  it  nor  grows  with  heat  nor  drowns  with  showers. 
To  this  I  witness  call  the  fools  of  Time, 3 
\Vhich  die  for    oodness,  who  have  liv'd  for  crime.4 

t  Nature* 


1  The  god  of  ll'omlcr. 

2  The  Sonnets  do  not  speak  to  beings  of  flesh  and  blood. — fiarnstorfi. 
:!  The  goddesses  Reason  and  Enry.     Cp.  note  2,  p.  54. 

4  And  he,  the  man  whom  Nature's  self  had  made 
7'o  mock  herself,  and  truth  to  imitate. 

'fears  of  the  Muses,  Spenser,  1591. 


58  Shake- sp ear e  England' s    Ulysses, 


ACT  II. 
Time.  33=xxi. 

So  is  it  not  with  me  as  with  that  Muse1 
Stirr'd  by  a  painted  beauty2  to  his  verse, 
Who  heaven  itself  for  ornament  doth  use 
And  every  fair  with  his  fair  doth  rehearse; 
Making  a  couplement  of  proud  compare, 
With  sun  and  moon,  with  earth  and  sea's  rich  gems,   I 
With  April's  first-born  flowers,  and  all  things  rare 
That  heaven's  air  in  this  huge  rondure  hems. 
O,  let  me,  true  in  love,  but  truly  write,        \_Enter  Envy. 
And  then  believe  me,  my  love4  is  as  fair 
As  any  mother's5  child,  though  not  so  bright 
As  those  gold  candles  fix'd  in  heaven's  air: 
Let  them  say  more  that  like  of  hearsay  well;6 
I  will  not  praise  that  purpose  not  to  sell. 


1  The  god  of  Wonder. 

2  The  goddess  Reason. 

The  harlot's  cheek,  beautied  with  plastering  art, 
Is  not  more  ugly. 

Hamlet,  in.  i. 

Reason  is  the  bawd  to  lust's  abuse. 

I'enus  and  Adonis,  1.  791. 

3  Cp.  Son.  2y-xxxv.  11.  2-4. 

4  The  goddess  Envy. 

5  Referring  to  Xaturc. 

c  In  Sons,  ai-xi.  and  84-civ.  it  is  shown  that  the  characters  [excepting  Time 
and  Nature}  are  Pythagoreans,  [preserving  the  gift  of  memory  after  death]. 
In  "hearsay  well"  Time  is  referring  to  the  formula  "He  said  it"  adopted  by  the 
diciples  of  Pythagoras,  when  they  alluded  to  any  of  the  doctrines  of  their  teacher. 

Cp.  Plato's  Works  [Bohn's  Libraries],  Vol.  VI.  p.  239. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       59 

SCENE  II. 

Envy.  34=vcxxm. 

How  oft,  when  thou,  my  music1  music  play'st, 2 
Upon  that  blessed  wood  whose  motion  sounds 
With  thy  sweet  fingers,  when  thou  gently  sway'st 
The  wiry  concord  that  mine  ear  confounds, 
Do  I  envy  those  jacks3  that  nimble  leap 
To  kiss  the  tender  inward  of  thy  hand, 
Whilst  my  poor  lips,  which  should  that  harvest  reap, 
At  the  wood's  boldness  by  thee  blushing  stand! 
To  be  so  tickled,  they  would  change  their  state 
And  situation  with  those  dancing  chips, 
O'er  whom  thy  fingers  walk  with  gentle  gait, 
Making  dead  wood  more  blest  than  living  lips; 
Since  saucy  jacks  so  happy  are  in  this, 
Give  them  thy  fingers,  me  thy  lips  to  kiss. 


1  Is  it  that  only   rhythmical  music  is  envied  or  does  she  answer  the   last   six 
lines  of  Son.  33-xxi.? 

2  Explained  psychologically  by  Beauty  to  Ambition,  1.  n,  Son.  in-cn. 

"But  that  wild  music  burthens  every  bough." 

Kni'y  being  the  grandmother  of  Ambition,  this  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  Shake- 
speare's character  building  revealed  in  the  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  Masque. 

When  we  think  a  thing,  we,  ordinary  men,  we  only  think  a  part  of  it;  we 
see  one  side,  some  isolated  mark,  sometimes  two  or  three  marks  together;  for 
what  is  beyond,  our  sight  fails  us;  the  infinite  network  of  its  infinitely-complicat- 
ed and  multiplied  properties  escapes  us  ...  We  are  like  tyro  naturalists  .  .  . 
who,  wishing  to  represent  an  animal,  recall  its  name  and  ticket  in  the  museum, 
with  some  indistinct  image  of  its  hide  and  figure  .  .  .  Picture  to  yourself,  the 
complete  idea,  that  is,  an  inner  representation,  so  abundant  and  full  that  it  ex- 
hausts all  the  properties  and  relations  of  the  object,  all  its  inward  and  outward 
aspects  .  .  .  and  beyond  this  its  instincts,  their  composition,  their  causes,  their 
history  ....  there  you  have  the  artist's  conception — Shakespeare's. — English 
Literature,  Taine,  Vol.  I.  p.  339. 

3  Keys. 


60  Shake-speare  England '  s    Ulysses, 


ACT  II, 


Time.  35=cxxxvm. 

When  my  love  swears  that  she  is  made  of  truth, 
I  do  believe  her,  though  I  know  she  lies, 
That  she  might  think  me  some  untutor'd  youth, 
Unlearned  in  the  world's  false  subtleties. 
Thus  vainly  thinking  that  she  thinks  me  young, 
Although  she  knows  my  days  are  past  the  best, 
Simply  I  credit  her  false-speaking  tongue: 
On  both  sides  thus  is  simple  truth  suppress'd. 
But  wherefore  says  she  not  she  is  unjust0 
And  wherefore  say  not  I  that  I  am  old? 
O,  love's  best  habit  is  in  seeming  trust, 
And  age  in  love  loves  not  to  have  years  told: 
Therefore  I  lie1  with  her  and  she  with  me, 
And  in  our  faults  by  lies  we  rlatter'd  be. 

[  Curtain. 


1  I  smilingly  credit  her  falsities.  Thus,  on  both  sides,  we  suppress  the  real 
facts,  and  I  lie  to  her,  while  she  lies  to  me,  and  so  by  reciprocal  falsehoods,  we 
flatter  each  other's  vanities.  ./  Xcic  Study  of  Shakespeare  s  Sonnets,  dod-^-in, 
p.  140. 


Love 's  Labor's  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.      61 


SCENE  III. 


Enter  THE  GODDESS  REASON  and  THY,  GOD  OF  WONDER. 
Wonder.  36=XLVin. 

How  careful  was  I,  when  I  took  my  way, 
Each  trifle  under  truest  bars  to  thrust, 
That  to  my  use  it  might  unused  stay 
From  hands  of  falsehood,  in  sure  wards  of  trust ! 
But  thou,  to  whom  my  jewels  trifles  are, 
Most  worthy  comfort,  now  my  greatest  grief, 
Thou,  best  of  dearest  and  mine  only  care, 
Art  left  the  prey  of  every  vulgar  thief. ! 
Thee  have  I  not  lock'd  up  in  any  chest, 
Save  where  thou  art  not,  though  I  feel  thou  art, 
Within  the  gentle  closure  of  my  breast, 
From  whence  at  pleasure  thou  may'st  come  and  part; 
And  even  thence  thou  wilt  be  stol'n,  I  fear. 
For  truth  proves  thievish  for  a  prize  so  dear. 


1  O!  reason  not  the  need;  our  basest  beggars 
Are  in  the  poorest  thing  superfluous. 

Lear,  n.  4,  1.  267, 


62  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  II, 


Reason.  37=XLiv. 

If  the  dull  substance  of  my  flesh  were  thought, 
Injurious  distance  should  not  stop  my  way; 
For  then  despite  of  space  I  would  be  brought, 
From  limits  far  remote,  where  thou  dost  stay. 1 
No  matter  then  although  my  foot  did  stand 
Upon  the  farthest  earth  remov'd  from  thee; 
For  nimble  thought  can  jump  both  sea  and  land 
As  soon  as  think  the  place  where  he  would  be. 
But,  ah !  thought  kills  me  that  I  am  not  thought 
To  leap  large  lengths  of  miles  when  thou  art  gone, 
But  that,  so  much  of  earth  and  water  wrought, 
I  must  attend  time's  leisure  with  my  moan, 
Receiving  nought  by  elements  so  slow 
But  heavy  tears,  badges  of  either's  woe. 


1  Things  which  really  call  for  Wonder  ....  if  we  have  them  by  us  in  com- 
mon use,  are  but  slightly  noticed  ....  among  the  singularities  of  nature  I  place 
the  sun,  the  moon,  the  magnet,  and  the  like. —  .\ '<•>?'.  ()>',ff.,  Book  II.,  xxxi, 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted .  Will.      63 


SCENE  III. 


Wonder.  38=L. 

How  heavy  do  I  journey  on  the  way, 
When  what  I  seek,  my  weary  travel's  end, 
Doth  teach  that  ease  and  that  repose  to  say, 
'Thus  far  the  miles  are  measur'd  from  thy  friend!' 
The  beast  that  bears  me,  tired  with  my  woe, 
Plods  dully  on,  to  bear  that  weight  in  me. 
As  if  by  some  instinct  the  wretch  did  know 
His  rider  lov'd  not  speed,  being  made  from  thee: 
The  bloody  spur  cannot  provoke  him  on 
That  sometimes  anger  thrusts  into  his  hide; 
Which  heavily  he  answers  with  a  groan, 
More  sharp  to  me  than  spurring  to  his  side: 

For  that  same  groan  doth  put  this  in  my  mind; 

My  grief  lies  onward  and  my  joy  behind. ! 


1  When  wonder  ceases,  knowledge  begins. — Shakespeare  in  Baconian  Light , 
Theobald,  p.  80, 


64  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  II. 


39— XLV. 

The  other  two,  slight  air,  and  purging  lire, ' 
Are  both  with  thee,  wherever  I  abide; 
The  first  my  thought,  the  other  my  desire, 
These  present-absent  with  swift  motion  slide. 
For  when  these  quicker  elements  are  gone 
In  tender  embassy  of  love  to  thee, 
My  life,  being  made  of  four,  ~  with  two  alone 
Sinks  down  to  death,  oppress'd  with  melancholy; 
Until  life's  composition  be  recur'd 
By  those  swift  messengers  return'd  from  thee, 
Who  e'en  but  now  come  back  again,  assur'd 
Of  thy  fair  health,  recounting  it  to  me: 
This  told,  I  joy ;  but  then  no  longer  glad, 
I  send  them  back  again  and  straight  grow  sad. 


1  Chiding  that  tongue  [  Reason's}  that  ever  sweet 
Was  used  in  giving  gentle  doom. 

Son.  47-cxLV.  1.  6. 

2  Does  not  our  life  consist  of  the  four  elements. 

Tu'dft/i  \ifffrti  ii.  3. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       65 


SCENE  III. 

Wonder.  40=0 

Thus  can  my  love  excuse  the  slow  offence 
Of  my  dull  bearer  when  from  thee  I  speed: 
From  where  thou  art,  why  should  I  haste  me  thence? 
Till  I  return,  of  posting  is  no  need. 
O,  what  excuse  will  my  poor  beast  then  find, 
When  swift  extremity  can  seem  but  slow? 
Then  should  I  spur,  though  mounted  on  the  wind; 
In  winged  speed  no  motion  shall  I  know: 
Then  can  no  horse  with  my  desire  keep  pace; 
Therefore  desire,  of  perfect'st  love  being  made, 
Shall  neigh,  no  dull  flesh  in  his  fiery  race; 
But  love,  for  love,  thus  shall  excuse  my  jade; 
Since  from  thee  going  he  went  wilful-slow, 
Towards  thee  I  '11  run,  and  give  him  leave  to  go. 


The  only  bird  alone  that  Nature  frames, 

When  weary  of  the  tedious  life  she  lives, 

By  fire  dies,  yet  finds  new  life  in  flames: 

Her  ashes  to  her  shape  new  essence  gives. 

For  hapless  loe  even  with  my  own  desires 

I  figured  on  the  table  of  my  heart, 

The  goodliest  shape  that  the  world's  eye  admires, 

And  so  did  perish  by  my  proper  art. 

And  still  I  toil  to  change  t,he  marble  breast 

Of  her  whose  sweet  Idea  I  adore, 

Yet  cannot  find  her  breath  unto  my  rest; 

Hard  is  her  heart,  and  woe  is  me  therefore. 

O  blessed  he  that  joyes  his  stone  and  art, 

Unhappy  I  to  love  a  stony  heart.1 

Samuel  Daniel,  1591  [Cp.  Grosart"1  s  Daniel,  Vol.  I.  p.  25] 
1  The  first  allusion  in  literature  to  this  Phoenix  Masque, 


66  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  II, 


Reason  to  Wonder.       41=0111. 

Alack,  what  poverty  my  muse  brings  forth, 
That  having  such  a  scope  to  show  her  pride, 
The  argument  all  bare  is  of  more  worth 
Than  when  it  hath  my  added  praise  beside! 
O,  blame  me  not,  if  I  no  more  can  write! 
Look  in  your  glass, *  and  there  appears  a  face 
That  over-goes  my  blunt  invention  quite, 
Dulling  my  lines,  and  doing  me  disgrace. 2 
Were  it  not  sinful  then,  striving  to  mend, 
To  mar  the  subject  that  before  was  well? 
For  to  no  other  pass  my  verses  tend, 
Than  of  your  graces  and  your  gifts  to  tell; 

And  more,  much  more,  than  in  my  verse  can  sit 
Your  own  glass1  shows  you  when  you  look  in  it. 

\_Exeunt. 


1  Cp.  Dedicatory  Son.  LXXVII.  1.  i. 

2  The  human  understanding  is  like  a  false  mirror,  which,  receiving  rays  ir- 
regularly, distorts  and  discolours  the  nature  of  things  by  mingling  its  own  nature 
with  it. — Nov.  Org.,  XLI, 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       67 


SCENE  IV. 

Enter  THE  GODDESS  ENVY. 
[THE  GODDESS  REASON  in  the  background.] 

Envy.  42=cxxxvn. 

Thou  blind  fool,  Love, 1  what  dost  thou  to  mine  eyes, 

That  they  behold,  and  see  not  what  they  see? 

They  know  what  beauty  is,  see  where  it  lies, 

Yet  what  the  best  is,  take  the  worst  to  be. 

If  eyes  corrupt  by  over-partial  looks, 

Be  anchor'd  in  the  bay  where  all  men  ride,2 

Why  of  eyes'  falsehood  hast  thou  forged  hooks, 

Whereto  the  judgment  of  my  heart  is  tied? 

Why  should  my  heart  think  that  a  several  plot 

Which  my  heart  knows  the  wide  world's  common  place  ? 

Or  mine  eyes  seeing  this,  say  this  is  not, 

To  put  fair  truth  upon  so  foul  a  face?3 

In  things  right  true  my  heart  and  eyes  have  err'd, 
And  to  this  false  plague4  are  they  now  transferr'd. 

\^Reason  comes  forward. 


1  Cp.  note  2,  p.  56. 

2  Wherefore  should  I  stand  in  the  plague  of  custom. — Lear,  i.  2. 

3  Cp.  note  i,  p.  69. 

4  A  plague  of  opinion!  a  man  may  wear  it  on  both  sides,  like  a  leather  jerkin. 
—  Troihis  and  Crestda,  in.  3. 

If  reasons  were  as  plenty  as  blackberries,  I  would  give  no  man  a  reason, — 
First  Henry  IV.,  n.  4. 


68  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  II 


Reason.  43=CLii. 

In  loving  thee  thou  know'st  I  am  forsworn,  * 
But  thou  art  twice  forsworn,  to  me  love  swearing; 
In  act  thy  bed- vow  broke2  and  new  faith  torn 
In  vowing  new  hate  after  new  love  bearing. 
But  why  of  two  oaths'  breach  do  I  accuse  thee, 
When  I  break  twenty?  I  am  perjur'd3  most; 
For  all  my  vows  are  oaths  but  to  misuse  thee, 
And  all  my  honest  faith  in  thee  is  lost: 
For  I  have  sworn  deep  oaths  of  thy  deep  kindness, 
Oaths  of  thy  love,  thy  truth,  thy  constancy, 
And,  to  enlighten  thee,  gave  eyes  to  blindness, 4 
Or  made  them  swear  against  the  thing  they  see; 
For  I  have  sworn  thee  fair;  more  perjur'd  I, 
To  swear  against  the  truth  so  foul  a  lie! 


1  Scene  I.,  Reason  is  in  love  with  Wonder. 

2  Scene  II.,  Envy  is  in  love  with  Time, 
8  Cp.  Son.  29-cxxv.,  1.  13. 

*  Cp.  Son.  14-cxxix, 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       69 


SCENE  IV. 


Envy.  44=cxLii. 

Love  is  my  sin,  and  thy  dear  virtue  hate, 
Hate  of  my  sin,  grounded  on  sinful  loving: 
O,  but  with  mine  compare  thou  thine  own  state, 
And  thou  shalt  find  it  merits  not  reproving; 
Or,  if  it  do,  not  from  those  lips  of  thine, 
That  have  profan'd  their  scarlet  ornaments, 
And  seal'd  false  bonds  of  love  as  oft  as  mine, 
Robb'd  others'  beds'  revenues  "of  their  rents. 
Be  it  lawful  I  love  thee,  as  thou  lov'st  those 
Whom  thine  eyes  woo  as  mine  importune  thee: 
Root  pity  in  thy  heart,  that  when  it  grows 
Thy  pity  may  deserve  to  pitied  be. 

If  thou  dost  seek  to  have  what  thou  dost  hide, 
By  self-example  may'st  thou  be  denied! 


1  Reason  is  the  bawd  to  lust's  abuse. 
Venus  and  Adonis,  1.  791. 

Time's  office  is  to  finish  the  hate  of  foes; 
To  eat  up  errors  by  opinion  bred, 
Not  spend  the  dowry  of  a  lawful  bed. 

Lucrece,  \.  937. 


70  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  II 


Reason.  45=LXVi. 

Tir'd  with  all  these,  for  restful  death  I  cry, 
As,  to  behold  desert  a  beggar  born, 
And  needy  nothing  trimm'd  in  jollity, 
And  purest  faith  unhappily  forsworn, 
And  gilded  honour  shamefully  misplac'd, 
And  maiden  virtue  rudely  strumpeted, 
And  right  perfection  wrongfully  disgrac'd, 
And  strength  by  limping  sway  disabled, 
And  art  made  tongue-tied  by  authority, 
And  folly,  doctor-like,  controlling  skill, 
And  simple  truth  miscall'd  simplicity, 
And  captive  good  attending  captain  ill: 

Tir'd  with  all  these,  from  these  would  I  be  gone, 
Save  that,  to  die,  I  leave  my  love  alone. 


O,  Opportunity,  thy  guilt  is  great! 

'Tis  thou  that  spurn'st  at  right,  at  law,  &!(.  Reason. 

Thou  makest  the  vestal  violate  her  oath; 

Thou  blowest  the  fire  when  temperance  is  thaw'd; 

Thou  smother 'st  honesty,  thou  murder 'st  troth; 

Thou  foul  abettor!  thou  notorious  bawd! 

Thou  plantest  scandal,  and  displaces!  laud: 
Thou  ravisher,  thou  traitor,  thou  false  thief, 
Thy  honey  turns  to  gall,  thy  joy  to  grief. 

Thy  secret  pleasure  turns  to  open  shame, 
Thy  private  feasting  to  a  public  fast, 
Thy  smoothing  titles  to  a  ragged  name, 
Thy  sugar'd  tongue  to  bitter  wormwood  taste: 
Thy  violent  vanities  can  never  last: 
How  comes  it  then  vile  Opportunity, 
Being  so  bad,  such  numbers  seek  for  thee? 

Lucrece,  11.  876-896. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    J^he  Enacted  Will.       71 


SCENE  IV. 

Envy.  46=cxLvn. 

My  love  is  as  a  fever,  longing  still 

For  that  which  longer  nurseth  the  disease, 

Feeding  on  that  which  doth  preserve  the  ill, 

Th'  uncertain  sickly  appetite  to  please. 

My  reason, 1  the  physician  to  my  love, 

Angry  that  his  prescriptions  are  not  kept, 

Hath  left  me,  and  I  desperate  now  approve 

Desire  is  death,  which  physic  did  except. 

Past  cure  I  am,  now  Reason  is  past  care, 

And  frantic-mad  with  evermore  unrest; 

My  thoughts  and  my  discourse  as  madmen's  are, 

At  random  from  the  truth  vainly  express'd; 

For  I  have  sworn  thee  fair  and  thought  thee  bright, 
Who  art  as  black  as  hell,  as  dark  as  night. 

\_Enter  Dame  Nature. 


1  Though  Love  use  Reason  for  his  physician,  he  admits  him  not  for  his  coun- 
sellor.— Merry    Wives,  n.  i. 

Hereat,  Reason,  seated  on  the  top  of  the  globe,  as  in  the  brain,  or  highest 
part  of  man,  figured  in  a  venerable  personage,  her  hair  white,  and  trailing  to 
her  waist,  crowned  with  light,  her  garments  blue,  and  semined  with  stars,  girded 
unto  her  with  a  white  band  filled  with  arithmetical  figures,  in  one  hand  bearing 
a  lamp,  in  the  other  a  bright  sword,  descended  and  spake.  —  The  Masque  of 
Hymen,  Ben  Jonson. 


72  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  II 


Envy  to  Nature.         47=cxLV. 

Those  lips1  that  Love's  own  hand  did  make 
Breath'd  forth  the  sound  that  said  'I  hate' 
To  me  that  languish'd  for  her  sake; 
But  when  she  saw  my  woeful  state, 
Straight  in  her  heart  did  mercy  come, 
Chiding  that  tongue1  that  ever  sweet 
Was  used  in  giving  gentle  doom, 
And  taught  it  thus  anew  to  greet; 
'I  hate'  she  alter'd  with  an  end. 
That  follow'd  it  as  gentle  day 
Doth  follow  night,  who  like  a  fiend 
From  heaven  to  hell  is  flown  away; 
'I  hate'  from  hate  away  she  threw, 
And  saved  my  life,  saying  'not  you.'2 


1  Reason' s.     Reason  in  Act  II.  is  the  daughter  of  I.oi'e  in  Act  I. 

8  This  Sonnet,  though  not  in  the  rhyming  decasyllabic,  is  intensly  dramatic. 
Wyndham  says  of  it,  "but  little  in  it  that  recalls  Shakespeare's  hand."1  Godwin, 
more  pronounced,  claims,  "Sonnet  CXLV.  is  not  a  Sonnet  at  all,  but  a  bit  of  oc- 
tosyllabic doggerel,  which  a  writer  of  Shakespeare's  judgment  would  not  have 
retained  in  the  collection."2 

1  Shakespeare's  Poems,  George  Wyndhaiti,  p.  331. 

2  A  New  Study  of  The  Sonnets  of  Shakespeare,  Parke  Godwin,  p.  16. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       73 


SCENE  IV. 

Reason  to  Nature.     48=0x1,111. 

Lo!  as  a  careful  housewife  runs  to  catch 
One  of  her  feath'red  creatures1  broke  away, 
Sets  down  her  babe  and  makes  all  swift  dispatch 
In  pursuit  of  the  thing  she  would  have  stay; 
Whilst  her  neglected  child  holds  her  in  chase, 
Cries  to  catch  her  whose  busy  care  is  bent 
To  follow  that  which  flies  before  her  face, 
Not  prizing  her  poor  infant's  discontent; 
So  runn'st  thou  after  that  which  flies  from  thee, 2 
Whilst  I  thy  babe  chase  thee  afar  b'ehind; 
But  if  thou  catch  thy  hope,  turn  back  to  me, 
And  play  the  mother's  part,  kiss  me,  be  kind; 
So  will  I  pray  that  thou  may'st  have  thy  'Will,'3 
If  thou  turn  back,  and  my  loud  crying  still. 


1  Would  not  this,  sir,  and  a  forest  of  feathers^ — if  the  rest  of  my  fortunes2 
turn  turk  with  me — with  two  provincial  roses  on  my  razed  shoes,  get  me  a  fel- 
lowship in  a  cry  of  players,  sir? — Hamlet,  in.  11. 

There  is  more  however,  in  Hamlet's  words  than  this  making  fun  of  the  'feathers;' 
something  covertly  concealed  under  tJie  rose  that  no  one  has  yet  espied.  If 
we  look  intently  we  shall  see  the  snake  stir  beneath  the  flowers;  a  subtle  snake 

of  irony  with  the  most  wicked  glitter  in  its  eye as  though  the  very  devil 

had  broken  loose  in  the  theatre,   and  was  hiding  his  cloven  foot  in  a  player's 
shoe. — Shakespeare' s  Sonnets,  Gerald  Massey,  pp.  518,  519. 

2  The  goddess  Envy. 

3  Cp.  note  i,  p.  31. 

1  The  twenty-two  characters  in  the  Masque  are  muses  or  gods. 

2  Making  his  fortunes  swim 
In  the  full  flood  of  her  admir'd  perfection. 
Ben.  Johnson  in  Lwe's  Martyr,  p.  193. 

The  puzzle  of  history,  called  'Essex,'  was  well  calculated  to  become  that  problem  of  the 
critic,  called  'Hamlet.' — Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  Massey,  p.  483. 


74  Shake-speare  England 's    Ulysses, 


ACT  II, 


Nature  to  Reason.        4.9 — »vi. 

Then  let  not  winter's  ragged  hand  deface 

In  thee  thy  summer,  ere  thou  be  distill'd: 

Make  sweet  some  vial;  treasure  thou  some  place 

With  beauty's  treasure,  ere  it  be  self-kill'd. 

That  use  is  not  forbidden  usury 

Which  happies  those  that  pay  the  willing  loan ; 

That's  for  thyself  to  breed  another  thee, 

Or  ten  times  happier,  be  it  ten  for  one; 

Ten  times  thyself  were  happier  than  thou  art, 

If  ten  of  thine  ten  times  refigur'd  thee: 

Then  what  could  death  do,  if  thou  shouldst  depart, 

Leaving  thee  living  in  posterity  ? 

Be  not  self-will'd,  for  thou  art  much  too  fair 

To  be  death's  conquest  and  make  worms  thine  heir. 


Of  bloody  wars,  nor  of  the  sack  of  Troy, 
Of  Pryam's  murdered  sons,  nor  Dido's  fall, 
Of  Helen's  rape,  by  Paris  Trojan  boy, 
Of  Caesar's  victories,  nor  Pompey's  thrall, 
Of  Lucrece  rape,  being  ravished  by  a  king, 
Of  none  of  these,  of  sweet  conceit  I  sing.v 
Robert  Chester,  1601. 
1  Cp.  1.  5,  Essex  verse,  p.  17. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       75 


SCENE  IV. 

Envy  to  Reason.         5o=LXXii. 

O,  lest  the  world  should  task  you  to  recite 
What  merit  liv'd  in  me,  that  you  should  love 
After  my  death,  dear  love,  forget  me  quite, 
For  you  in  me  can  nothing  worthy  prove; 
Unless  you  would  devise  some  virtuous  lie, 
To  do  more  for  me  than  mine  own  desert, 
And  hang  more  praise  upon  deceased  I 
Than  niggard  truth  would  willingly  impart: 
O,  lest  your  true  love  may  seem  false  in  this, 
That  you  for  love  speak  well  of  me  untrue, 
My  name  be  buried  where  my  body  is, 
And  live  no  more  to  shame  nor  me  nor  you. 
For  I  am  sham'd  by  that  which  I  bring  forth, 
And  so  should  you,  to  love  things  nothing  worth. 

\^Enter  Time  and  Wonder. 


Then  Gentle  reader  over-read  my  muse, 
That  arms  herself  to  fly  a  lowly  flight, 
My  untuned  stringed  verse  do  thou  excuse, 
That  may  perhaps  accepted,  yield  delight:1 
I  cannot  clime  in  praises  to  the  sky, 
Lest  falling,  I  be  drown'd  with  infamy. 

Mea  mecum  Porto. 

Robert  Chester  in  Love's  Martyr,  p.  6. 
1  Cp.  note  i  from  Saintsbury,  p.  41. 


76  Shake-speare  England *s    Ulysses, 


ACT  II, 


Time  to  Wonder.          51=11. 

When  forty  winters  shall  besiege  thy  brow, 
And  dig  deep  trenches  in  thy  beauty's  field, 
Thy  youth's  proud  livery,  so  gaz'd  on  now, 
Will  be  a  tatter'd  weed  of  small  worth  held: 
Then  being  ask'd,  where  all  thy  beauty  lies, 
Where  all  the  treasure  of  thy  lusty  days; 
To  say,  within  thine  own  deep-sunken  eyes, 
Were  an  all-eating  shame  and  thriftless  praise. 
How  much  more  praise  deserv'd  thy  beauty's  use, 
If  thou  couldst  answer,  'This  fair  child  of  mine1 
Shall  sum  my  count  and  make  my  old  excuse, ' 
Proving  his  beauty  by  succession  thine! 

This  were  to  be  new  made  when  thou  art  old, 
And  see  thy  blood  warm  when  thou  feel'st  it  cold. 


1  Wonder  is  the  seed  of  Knowledge. — Adv.  of'L.,  I.  95. 
Is  this  the  honor  of  a  haughty  thought, 
For  lovers  hap  to  have  all  spite  of  love?1 
Hath  wretched  skill  thus  blinded  reason  taught, 
///  this  conceit*  such  discontent  to  move? 
That  beauty  so  is  of  herself  bereft, 
That  no  good  hope  of  aught  good  hap  is  left. 
A  Loyal  Appeal  in  Courtesy,  fissex,  1601. 

1  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 

2  The  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       77 


SCENE  IV. 

Nature  to  Wonder.      52=xm. 

O,  that  you  were  yourself!  but,  love,  you  are 

No  longer  yours  than  you  yourself  here  live: 

Against  this  coming  end  you  should  prepare, 

And  your  sweet  semblance  to  some  other  give. 

So  should  that  beauty  which  you  hold  in  lease 

Find  no  determination;  then  you  were 

Yourself  again  after  yourself's  decease, 

When  your  sweet  issue  your  sweet  form  should  bear. 

Who  lets  so  fair  a  house  fall  to  decay, * 

Which  husbandry  in  honour  might  uphold 

Against  the  stormy  gusts  of  winter's  day 

And  barren  rage  of  death's  eternal  cold? 

O,  none  but  unthrifts!     Dear,  my  love,  you  know 
You  had  a  father;2  let  your  son3  say  so. 

[  Curtain. 


1  Cp.  Sons.  29-cxxv.  1,  i;  3o-cxLVi.  1.  6;  56-x.  1.  7. 

2  The  god  of  Rarity  in  Act  I. 

3  The  god  of  Knowledge  in  Act  III. 

Nor  all  the  Ladies  of  the  Thespian  Lake, 

[Though  they  were  crushed  into  one  form]  could  make 

A  beauty  of  that  merit,  that  should  take 

Our  muse  up  by  commission:  No,  we  bring 

Our  own  true  fire;1  Now  our  thought  takes  wing 

And  now  an  Epode  to  deep  ears  we  sing. 

Prczludium,BenJonson  in  Love"1  s  Martyr,^.  190. 
1  The  Phoenix  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won. 


78  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 

MUSES  REPRESENTED. 
KNOWLEDGE — TIME — GRACE — HOPE — NATURE. 


SCENE  I.      Enter  DAME  NATURE,  FATHER  TIME  and 

THE    GOD    OF    KNOWLEDGE. 

Nature  to  Knowledge.    53=1. 

From  fairest  creatures  we  desire  increase, 
That  thereby  beauty's  rose  might  never  die, 
But  as  the  riper  should  by  time  decease, 
His  tender  heir  might  bear  his  memory: 
But  thou,  contracted  to  thine  own  bright  eyes, 
Feed'st  thy  light's  flame1  with  self-substantial  fuel, 
Making  a  famine  where  abundance  lies, 
Thyself  thy  foe,  to  thy  sweet  self  too  cruel. 
Thou  that  art  now  the  world's  fresh  ornament, 
And  only  herald  to  the  gaudy  spring, 
Within  thine  own  bud  buriest  thy  content, 
And,  tender  churl,  mak'st  waste  in  niggarding: 
Pity  the  world,  or  else  this  glutton  be, 
To  eat  the  world's  due,  by  the  grave  and  thee. 


1  The  angel  of  light  that  was,  when  he  presumed  before  his  fall,  said  within 
himself,  I  will  ascend  and  be  like  unto  the  Highest;  not  God,  but  the  highest. 
To  be  like  to  God  in  goodness,  was  no  part  of  his  emulation;  knowledge  [be- 
ing in  creation  an  angel  of  light]  was  not  the  want  which  did  most  solicit  him; 
only  because  he  was  a  minister  he  aimed  at  a  supremacy;  therefore  his  climb- 
ing or  ascension  was  turned  into  a  throwing  doum  or  precipitation. — Int.  of 
Nature,  Francis  Bacon,  p.  27. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       79 


SCENE  I. 

Knowledge1  to  Nature.  54=LXXV. 

So  are  you  to  my  thoughts  as  food  to  life, 

Or  as  sweet-season'd  showers  are  to  the  ground; 

And  for  the  peace  of  you  I  hold  such  strife 

As  'twixt  a  miser  and  his  wealth  is  found; 

Now  proud  as  an  enjoyer,  and  anon 

Doubting  the  filching  age  will  steal  his  treasure, 

Now  counting  best  to  be  with  you  alone, 

Then  better'd  that  the  world  may  see  my  pleasure 

Sometime  all  full  with  feasting2  on  your  sight, 

And  by  and  by  clean  starved  for  a  look; 

Possessing  or  pursuing  no  delight, 

Save  what  is  had  or  must  from  you  be  took. 

Thus  do  I  pine  and  surfeit  day  by  day, 

Or  gluttoning  on  all,  or  all  away. 


1  Let  the  bird  of  loudest  lay, 
On  the  sole  Arabian1  tree, 
Herald  sad,  and  trumpet  be, 
To  whose  sound  chaste  wings  obey. 
The  Phoenix  and  Turtle  Dove. 

2  Knowledge  is  the  food  of  the  mind. — Adv.  of  L.,  Vol.  I.  part  3,  p.  260. 

1  Arabian  Phoenix,  a  mythical  bird  of  which  only  one  specimen  could  be  alive  at  a  time.  After 
living  500  years  it  erected  for  itself  a  funeral  pyre,  which  the  sun  ignited,  and  out  of  the  ashes 
of  the  former  bird  sprang  a  new  one.  The  Phoenix  was  supposed  to  inhabit  the  Tree  of  the 
Knowledge  of  Good  and  Evil,  called  Razin,  on  the  site  of  the  Garden  of  Eden. — Old  Fortu- 
natus  [Oliphant  Smeaton,  Ed.],  p.  140. 


8o  Shake-speare  England ' s  Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 

Time  to  Knowledge.     55=x. 

For  shame  deny  that  thou  bear'st  love  to  any, 
Who  for  thyself  art  so  improvident. 
Grant,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  art  belov'd  of  many,1 
But  that  thou  none  lov'st  is  most  evident; 
For  thou  art  so  possess 'd  with  murd'rous  hate 
That  'gainst  thyself  thou  stick'st  not  to  conspire, 2 
Seeking  that  beauteous  roof  to  ruinate3 
Which  to  repair  should  be  thy  chief  desire. 
O,  change  thy  thought,  that  I  may  change  my  mind! 
Shall  hate  be  fairer  lodg'd  than  gentle  love? 
Be,  as  thy  presence  is,  gracious  and  kind. 
Or  to  thyself  at  least  kind-hearted  prove: 
Make  thee  another  self,  for  love  of  me, 
That  beauty  still  may  live  in  thine  or  thee. 


1  Knowledge  is  the  food  of  the  mind. — Adv.,  of  L.  Francis  Bacon,  Vol.  I. 
part  3,  p.  260. 

It  is  well  known,  how  I  did  many  vi'ars  since  dedicate  my  travels  and  studies 
to  the  use  and  service  of  my  Lord  of  Essex,  .  .  .  and  I  applied  myself  to  him  in 
a  manner  which  I  think  happeneth  rarely  amongst  men:  for  I  did  not  only  la- 
bour carefully  and  industriously  in  that  tic  set  me  about,  whether  it  were  matter 
of  advice  or  otherwise,  but  neglecting  the  Queen's  service,  mine  own  fortune, 
and  in  a  sort  my  vocation,  I  did  nothing  but  devise  and  ruminate  with  myself 
to  the  best  of  my  understanding,  propositions  and  memorials  of  anything  that 
might  concern  his  Lordship's  honour,  fortune,  or  service. — Apology  concerning 
the  Earl  of  Essex,  Francis  Bacon,  1604. 

2  Knowledge  finally  conspires  against  himself.      Cp.  Son.  83-xLix,  1.  u. 

3  Psychologically,  Knowledge  partakes  of  the  character  of  his  Father,   Won- 
der.    Cp.  Son.  30-cxLVi.  1.  6. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       81 


SCENE  I. 

Knowledge.  56=cxxin. 

No!  Time,  thou  shalt  not  boast  that  I  do  change: 
Thy  pyramids  built  up  with  newer  might 
To  me  are  nothing  novel,  nothing  strange;1 
They  are  but  dressings  of  a  former  sight:3 
Our  dates  are  brief,  and  therefore  we  admire 
What  thou  dost  foist  upon  us  that  is  old, 
And  rather  make  them  born  to  our  desire 
Than  think  that  we  before  have  heard  them  told: 
Thy  registers  and  thee  I  both  defy, 
Not  wond'ring  at  the  present  nor  the  past, 
For  thy  records,  and  what  we  see  doth  lie, 
Made  more  or  less  by  thy  continual  haste: 

This  I  do  vow  and  this  shall  ever  be; 

I  will  be  true,  despite  thy  scythe  and  thee. 

\_Exeunt. 


1  Knowledges  are  as  pyramids,  whereof   history  is   the  basis. — Adv.  of  L., 
II.  p.  221,   Bacon. 

2  An  argument  used  by  Socrates,   "Knowledge  is  nothing  but  reminiscence." 
—riitcdo,  Plato  [Bohns'  Libraries.],  Vol.  I.  p.  48. 

A  man  is  generally  more  inclined  to  feel  kindly  towards  one  on  whom  he  has 
conferred  favors  than  towards  one  from  whom  he  has  received  them.1  Essex 
loaded  Bacon  with  benefits,  and  never  thought  he  had  done  enough.  It  seems 
never  to  have  crossed  the  mind  of  the  powerful  and  wealthy  noble  that  the  poor 
barrister  whom  he  treated  with  such  munificent  kindness  was  not  his  equal  .  .  . 
Essex  was  in  general  more  than  sufficiently  sensible  of  his  own  merits;  but  he 
did  nol  scon  to  knon.'  tlial  lie  had-  ever  deserved  icell  of  Bacon.  On  that 
cruel  day  when  they  saw  each  other  for  the  last  time  at  the  bar  of  the  Lords, 
Essex  taxed  his  perfidious  friend  with  unkindness  and  insincerity,  but  never  with 
ingratitude,1  even  in  such  a  moment,  more  bitter  than  the  bitterness  of  death,  that 
noble  heart  was  too  great  to  vent  itself  in  such  a  reproach, — Essays  and  Poems •, 
Macaulay,  Vol.  II.  p.  186. 

1  Cp.  sub-note,  p.  87,  and  notes,  p.  89. 


82  Shake-spearc  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  II.     Enter  THE  GODDESS  HOPE  and  THE  GOD 
OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

Hope.  57=xci. 

Some  glory  in  their  birth,  some  in  their  skill, 
Some  in  their  wealth,  some  in  their  bodies'  force, 
Some  in  their  garments,  though  new-fangled  ill, 
Some  in  their  hawks  and  hounds,  some  in  their  horse; 
And  every  humour  hath  his  adjunct  pleasure, 
Wherein  it  finds  a  joy  above  the  rest: 
But  these  particulars  are  not  my  measure; 
All  these  I  better  in  one  general  best. 
Thy  love  is  better  than  high  birth  to  me, 
Richer  than  wealth,  prouder  than  garments'  cost, 
Of  more  delight  than  hawks  or  horses  be ; 
And  having  thee,  of  all  men's  pride  I  boast: 
Wretched  in  this  alone,  that  thou  may'st  take 
All  this  away,  and  me  most  wretched  make. 

Right  well  1  know,  most  mighty  Sovereign, 

That  all  this  famous  antique  history 

Of  some  th'  abundance  of  an  idle  brain 

Will  judged  be,  and  painted  forgery, 

Rather  than  matter  of  just  memory; 

Since  none  that  breatheth  living  air  does  know 

Where  is  that  happy  land  of  Faery, 

Which  I  so  much  do  vaunt,  yet  nowhere  show, 

But  vouch  antiquities,  which  nobody  can  know. 

But  let  that  man  with  better  sense  advize, 
That  of  the  world  least  part  to  us  is  read; 
And  daily  how  through  hardy  enterprize 
Many  great  regions  are  discovered, 
Which  to  late  age  were  never  mentioned; 
Who  ever  heard  of  the  Indian  Peru? 
Or  who  in  venturous  vessel  measured 
The  Amazon,  huge  river,  now  found  true  ? 
Or  fruitfullest  Virginia  who  did  ever  view? 

Fairy  Queen,  Book  II.,1  Prologue,  Spenser. 

1  "Containing  the  Legend  of  Sir  Gnyon,  or  of  Temperance."     It  has  been  surmised  that 
Sir  Guyon  is  Essex,     Cp,  Note?  qnd  Queries,  Vol.  IV,  series  3,  p.  150. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       83 


SCENE  II. 

Knowledge.  58=LXix.  • 

Those  parts  of  thee  that  the  world's  eye  doth  view, 
Want  nothing  that  the  thought  of  hearts  can  mend; 
All  tongues,  the  voice  of  souls,  give  thee  that  due, 
Utt'ring  bare  truth,  e'en  so  as  foes  commend. 
Thy  outward  thus  with  outward  praise  is  crown'd; 
But  those  same  tongues1  that  give  thee  so  thine  own, 
In  other  accents  do  this  praise  confound 
By  seeing  farther  than  the  eye  hath  shown. 
They  look  into  the  beauty  of  thy  mind, 
And  that,  in  guess,  they  measure  by  thy  deeds;    [kind, 
Then,  churls,  their  thoughts,  although  their  eyes  were 
To  thy  fair  flower  add  the  rank  smell  of  weeds: 
But  why  thy  odour  matcheth  not  thy  show, 
The  solve  is  this,  that  thou  dost  common  grow. 

1  The  tongues  of  Grace  and  Knowledge. 

Yet  all  these  were  when  no  man  did  them  know, 

Yet  have  from  wisest  ages  hidden  beene, 

And  later  times  things  more  unknown  shall  show.1 

Why  then  should  witless  man  so  much  misweene, 

That  nothing  is  but  that  which  he  hath  seene? 

What  if  in  the  moon's  fair  shining  sphere,2 

What  if  in  every  other  star  unseene, 

Of  other  worlds  he  happily  should  heare,3 

He  wonder  would  much  more;  yet  such  to  some  appeare. 

Of  Faery  land  yet  if  he  more  inquire, 
By  certain  signs,  here  set  in  sundry  place, 
He  may  it  find;  nor  let  him  then  admire, 
But  yield  his  sense  to  be  too  blunt  and  base, 
'That  not  without  an  hound  fine  footing  trace. 

Fairy  Queen,  Book  II.,  Prologue,  Spenser. 
1  Cp.  note  4,  p.  57  and  Dr'ayton's  Allusion  to  the  Phoenix,  p.  98. 

2  But  stay,  I  see  thee  in  the  hemisphere 
Advanced,  and  made  a  constellation  there. 

Memorial  Verses  to  Shake-sf>eare,  Benjonson,  1623. 

3  Cp.  note  2,  p.  57,  and  note  2,  p.  56. 

Spenser's  intimacy  with  Essex,  with  whatever  intellectual  advantages  it  may 
have  been  attended,  with  whatever  bright  spirits  it  may  have  brought  Spenser 
acquainted,  probably  impeded  his  prospects  of  preferment.— The  Works  of 
Spenser,  Hale  \ Globe  Edition],  p,  li, 


84  Shake-speare  England ' s  Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 
Hope.  59=LXxxv. 

My  tongue-tied  Muse  in  manners  holds  her  still, 
While  comments  of  your  praise,  richly  compil'd, 
Reserve  their  character  with  golden  quill 
And  precious  phrase  by  all  the  Muses  fil'd. 
I  think  good  thoughts  whilst  other  write  good  words, 
And  like  unletter'd  clerk  still  cry  'Amen' 
To  every  hymn  that  able  spirit1  affords 
In  polish'd  form  of  well-refined  pen. 
Hearing  you  prais'd,  I  say  '  'Tis  so,  'tis  true, ' 
And  to  the  most  of  praise  add  something  more; 
But  that  is  in  my  thought,  whose  love  to  you, 
Though  words  come  hindmost,  holds  his  rank  before. 
Then  others  for  the  breath  of  words  respect, 
Me  for  my  dumb  thoughts,  speaking  in  effect. 


1  The  god  of  Grace.     Cp.  note  2,  p.  57. 

I  must  hold  it  as  demonstrated,  that  the  'Phoenix'  was  Elizabeth1  and  the  'Tur- 
tle Dove,'  Essex.  No  one  has,  hitherto,  in  anyway  thought  of  this  interpreta- 
tion of  the  'Turtle  Dove'2  any  more  than  the  other  of  the  'Phoenix;'3  but  none 
the  less  do  I  hope  for  acceptance  of  it.— Robert  Chester's  Lore's  Martyr,  1601 
[Dr.  Grosart,  Ed.,  1878],  p.  xliv. 

1  Cp.  Benjonson's  lines,  p.  77. 

From  the  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets  as  a  Cretan  labyrinth,  their  dedication  to  Homer 
[Sonnets  26,  77],  and  the  supposed  dedication  to  "Mr.  W.  H."  a  metamorphosing  of  Ulys- 
ses' Mighty  Bow,  it  follows  that  Troy's  famous  Wooden  Horse  appears,  spiritually,  on  Eng- 
lish soil  as  the  Turtle  Dove ;  i.  e., 

2  Shakp-snearp's  Turtlp  Drive         I     The  P°em  of    Thc  /'//"''//.r  ami    Turtle  /)»?><•  I  containing   the 
[Enaland-s  Welder i  HorS         1    name  of  Ulysses-Essex  and   the    twenty-two    executors  of 

I    the  Willl,  the  Dramatis  Persons  of  the  Masque. 

3  Shake-speare's  Phoenix=The  Sonnets  of  i6oy.  a  Dismantled  Masque. 

On  the  purposed  lack  of  spirituality  shown  in  Homer's  characters  depicted  in  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  cp.  notes,  pp.  121,  122.  Thus  it  is  that  the  cunning  of  invention  and  the  spirituality 
of  the  classical  characters  of  the  Masque  stand  .... 

"Alone  for  the  Comfiarisnit 
Of  all  that  insolent  Greece  ....  sent  forth." 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       85 


SCENE  II. 

Knowledge.  6o=Lxx. 

That  thou  art  blam'd  shall  not  be  thy  defect, 
For  slander's  mark  was  ever  yet  the  fair; 
The  ornament  of  beauty  is  suspect, 
A  crow1  that  flies  in  heaven's  sweetest  air. 
So  thou  be  good,  slander  doth  but  approve 
Thy  worth  the  greater,  being  woo'd  of  Time;2 
For  canker-vice  the  sweetest  buds  doth  love, 
And  thou  present'st  a  pure  unstained  prime. 
Thou  hast  pass'd  by  the  ambush  of  young  days, 
Either  not  assail'd,  or  victor  being  charg'd; 
Yet  this  thy  praise  cannot  be  so  thy  praise, 
To  tie  up  envy  evermore  enlarg'd: 

If  some  suspect  of  ill  mask'd  not  thy  show,3 
Then  thou  alone  kingdoms  of  hearts  shouldst  owe. 


1  Point  of  contact  between  the  Sonnets  of  1609  and  the  poem  of  The  Phoenix 
and  Turtle  Dove;  the  crow  being  mentioned  in  Sons.  GO-LXX.,  82-0x111.  and  in 
the  fifth  stanza  of  the  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  Masque,  viz: 

'And  thou  treble-dated  crow, 
That  thy  sable  gender  mak'st, 
With  the  breath  thou  giv'st  and  tak'st, 
'Mongst  our  mourners  shalt  thou  go. 

The  Phoenix  and  Turtle  Dove. 

2  In  a  Pythagorean  sense  as  Envy  in  Act  II.      Cp.  Son.  6i-cxvn.  1.  6. 

3  Hope  is  the  daughter  of  Envy. 


86  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

f 


ACT  III. 


Hope.  6 1  = 

Accuse  me  thus:  that  I  have  scanted  all 
Wherein  I  should  your  great  deserts  repay, 
Forgot  upon  your  dearest  love  to  call, 
Whereto  all  bonds  do  tie  me  day  by  day; 
That  I  have  frequent  been  with  unknown  minds,1 
And  given  to  Time  your  own  dear-purchas'd  right;2 
That  I  have  hoisted  sail  to  all  the  winds 
Which  should  transport  me  farthest  from  your  sight. 
Book  both  my  wilfulness  and  errors  down, 
And  on  just  proof  surmise  accumulate; 
Bring  me  within  the  level  of  your  frown, 
But  shoot  not  at  me  in  your  waken'd  hate; 
Since  my  appeal  says  I  did  strive  to  prove 
The  constancy  and  virtue  of  your  love. 


1  Hope    here    anticipates  her  relationship  [as  Ambition}   with   Wisdom  and 
Beauty  in  Act  IV. 

2  In  Act  II.  Hope  as  Envy  was  the  beloved  of  Father  Time. 

3  Better  is  the  sight  of  the  eye  than  the  wandering  of  the  desire. — Med.  Sac- 
roe,  Francis  Bacon,  part  3,  p.  170. 

It  is  noteworthy  that  the  characters  in  the  sensual  line,  from  Desire  to  Folly, 
speak,  or  are  reminded,  of  the  ocean.  I  cannot  fathom  it,  but  Shake-speare  was 
an  Admiral  as  well  as  a  General. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    77ie  Enacted  Will.       87 


SCENE  II. 

Knowledge.  62=cxLi. 

In  faith,  I  do  not  love  thee  with  mine  eyes, 
For  they  in  thee  a  thousand  errors  note;1 
But  'tis  my  heart  that  loves  what  they  despise, 
Who  in  despite  of  view  is  pleas'd  to  dote; 
Nor  are  mine  ears  with  thy  tongue's  tune  delighted, 
Nor  tender  feeling,  to  base  touches  prone, 
Nor  taste,  nor  smell,  desire  to  be  invited 
To  any  sensual  feast  with  thee  alone: 
But  my  five  wits  nor  my  five  senses  can 
Dissuade  one  foolish  heart  from  serving  thee, 
Who  leaves  unsway'd  the  likeness  of  a  man, 
Thy  proud  heart's  slave  and  vassal  wretch  to  be: 
Only  my  plague  thus  far  I  count  my  gain, 
That  she  that  makes  me  sin  awards  me  pain. 


1  It  is  hardly  possible  at  once  to  admire  an  author  and  to  go  beyond  him; 
Knowledge  being  as  water,  which  will  not  rise  above  the  level  from  which  it 
fell. — Preface,  Nov.  Org.,  p.  30. 

The  fragments  of  a  great  work  on  the  Interpretation  of  Nature  were  first 

published  in  Stephens'  Letters  and  Remains,  1734 The  manuscript  from 

which  Robert  Stephens  printed  these  fragments  was  found  among  some  loose 
papers  placed  in  his  hands  by  the  Karl  of  Oxford,  and  is  now  in  the  British 
Museum;  Harl,  MSS.  6462.  It  is  a  thin  paper  volume  of  the  quarto  size,  writ- 
ten in  the  hand  of  one  of  Bacon's  servants,  with  corrections,  erasures,  and  in- 
terlineations in  his  own. — Preface  to  Valerius  Terminus,  Bacon'' s  Works, 
[Spedding  Ed.],  Vol.  I.  pp.  9,  16. 


Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 
Hope.  63=cx. 

Alas,  'tis  true,  I  have  gone  here  and  there, 

And  made  myself  a  motley  to  the  view, 

Gor'd  my  own  thoughts, !  sold  cheap  what  is  most  dear, 

Made  old  offences  of  affections  new;'3 

Most  true  it  is  that  I  have  look'd  on  truth 

Askance  and  strangely:  but,  by  all  above, 

These  blenches  gave  my  heart  another  youth, 

And  worse  essays  prov'd  thee  my  best  of  love. 

Now  all  is  done,  have  what  shall  have  no  end: 

Mine  appetite  I  never  more  will  grind 

On  newer  proof,  to  try  an  older  friend, 

A  god  in  love,  to  whom  I  am  confin'd. 

Then  give  me  welcome,  next  my  heav'n  the  best, 
E'en  to  thy  pure  and  most  most  loving  breast. 


1  It  is  no  marvel  if  these  Anticipations  have  brought  forth  such  diversity  and 
repugnance  in  opinions,  theories  or  philosophies,  as  so  many  fables  of  several 
arguments. — Int.  of  Nature,  Bacon,  p.  65. 

2  If  any  have  had    the  strength  of  mind  generally  to  purge  away  and  dis- 
charge all  Anticipations,  they  have   not  had  that  greater  and  double  strength 
and  patience  of  mind,  as  well  to  repel  new  Anticipations  after  the  view  and 
search  of  particulars,  as  to  reject  old  which  were  in  the  mind  before. — Int.  of 
Nature,  p.  67. 

The  human  understanding  is  no  dry  light,  but  receives  an  infusion  from  the 
will  and  affections;  whence  proceed  sciences  which  may  be  called  "sciences  as 
one  would."  Numberless  in  short  are  the  ways,  and  sometimes  imperceptible, 
which  the  affections  color  and  infect  the  understanding. — NOT.  Org.,  Aphor- 
ism 49,  p.  82. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will. 


SCENE  II. 

Knowledge.  64=cxxxix. 

O,  call  not  me  to  justify  the  wrong, 
That  thy  unkindness  lays  upon  my  heart; 
Wound  me  not  with  thine  eye  but  with  thy  tongue; 
Use  power  with  power,  and  slay  me  not  by  art. 
Tell  me  thou  lov'st  elsewhere;  but  in  my  sight, 
Dear  heart,  forbear  to  glance  thine  eye  aside: 
What  need'st  thou  wound  with  cunning,  when  thy  might 
Is  more  than  my  o'er-press'd  defence  can  bide? 
Let  me  excuse  thee:  ah!  my  love  well  knows 
Her  pretty  looks  have  been  mine  enemies, 
And  therefore  from  my  face  she  turns  my  foes, 
That  they  elsewhere  might  dart  their  injuries: 
Yet  do  not  so;  but  since  I  am  near  slain, 
Kill  me  outright  with  looks,  and  rid  my  pain. 


True  science  consists  of  the  interpretation  of  Nature Bacon  is  to  be 

regarded,  not  as  the  founder  of  a  new  philosophy,  but  as  the  discoverer  of  a 
new  method;  at  least  we  must  remember  that  this  was  his  own  view  of  himself 

and  of  his  writings But  of  this  great  plan  the  interpretation  of  Nature 

was,  so  to  speak,  the  soul, — the  formative  and  vivifying  principle. — Preface  to 
Norum  Organum  [Ellis,  Ed.],  pp.  148,  149,  155. 

"Valerius  Terminus  of  the  Interpretation  of  Nature,  with  the  annotations 
of  Hermes  Stella"  ...  It  is  impossible  to  ascertain  the  motive  which  deter- 
mined Bacon  to  give  to  the  supposed  author  the  name  of  Valerius  Terminus  or 
to  his  commentator,  of  whose  annotations  we  have  no  remains,1  that  of  Hermes 
Stella2  ...  It  is  at  the  same  time  full  of  interest,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  earliest 
type  of  the  Instauratio.  The  first  book  of  the  work  ascribed  to  Valerius  Ter- 
minus would  have  corresponded  to  the  DC  Augmentis  and  to  the  first  book  of 
the  Novum  Organum. — Bacon' s  IVorks,  Preface  to  Valerius  Terminus,  pp. 
9,  16. 

1  Cp.  note  2,  p.  32. 

2  Shine  forth,  thou  star  of  poets. — Memorial  I'erses  to  Shake- sfeare,  Ben  Jonson,  1623. 


90  Shake-speare  England 's    Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 


Hope  to  Knowledge.    65=0x1,. 

Be  wise  as  thou  art  cruel;  do  not  press 
My  tongue-tied  patience  with  too  much  disdain; 
Lest  sorrow  lend  me  words,  and  words  express 
The  manner  of  my  pity-wanting  pain. 
If  I  might  teach  thee  wit,  better  it  were, ! 
Though  not  to  love,  yet,  love,  to  tell  me  so;3 
As  testy  sick-men,  when  their  deaths  be  near, 
No  news  but  health  from  their  physicians  know; 
For  if  I  should  despair,  I  should  grow  mad, 
And  in  my  madness  might  speak  ill  of  thee: 
Now  this  ill-wresting  world  is  grown  so  bad, 
Mad  slanderers  by  mad  ears  believed  be. 

That  I  may  not  be  so,  nor  thou  belied, 

Bear  thine  eyes  straight,  though  thy  proud  heart  go 
wide. 

\_Curtain. 


1  He  that  is  ignorant  receives  not  the  words  of  Knowledge,  unless  thou  first 
tell  him  that  which  is  in  his  own  heart. — Nov.  Org.,  p.  39. 

2  If  you  do  not  love  me  it  were  prudent  to  say  you  do. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       91 


SCENE  III. 

Enter  THE  GODDESS  HOPE  and  THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 
Hope  to  Grace.  66=Lin. 

What  is  your  substance,  whereof  are  you  made, 
That  millions  of  strange  shadows  on  you  tend? 
Since  every  one  hath,  every  one,  one  shade, 
And  you,  but  one,  can  every  shadow  lend. 
Describe  Adonis,  and  the  counterfeit 
Is  poorly  imitated  after  you; 
On  Helen's  cheek  all  art  of  beauty  set, 
And  you  in  Grecian  tires  are  painted  new. 
.Speak  of  the  spring  and  foison  of  the  vear, 
The  one  doth  shadow  of  your  beauty  show, 
The  other  as  your  bounty  doth  appear; 
And  you  in  every  blessed  shape  we  know. 
In  all  external  grace  you  have  some  part, 
But  you  like  none,  none  you,  for  constant  heart. 


It  is  a  fact  that  about  the  beginning  of  James'  reign  his  [Bacon's]  writing 
underwent  a  remarkable  change,  from  the  hurried  Saxon  hand  full  of  large 
sweeping  curves  and  with  letters  imperfectly  formed  and  connected,  which  he 
wrote  in  Elizabeth's  time,  to  a  small,  neat,  light,  and  compact  one,  formed 
more  upon  the  Italian  model  which  was  then  coming  into  fashion  ...  It  is  of 
course  impossible  to  fix  the  precise  date  of  such  a  change  .  .  .  but  whenever  it 
was  that  he  corrected  this  manuscript  [Interpretation  of  Nature]  ...  he  has 
taken  the  trouble  to  add  the  running  title  wherever  it  was  wanting,  thus  writ- 
ing the  words  "Of  the  Interpretation  of  Nature"  at  full  length  not  less  than 
eighteen  times  over. — Bacon"1  s  W/or£.s,  Note  to  Preface  to  Valerius  Terminus, 
[Spedding,  Ed.]  pp.  19,  20. 


92  Shake-speare  England *s    Ulysses, 


ACT  III, 


Grace  to  Hope.          67=cxLiv. 

Two  loves  I  have  of  comfort1  and  despair, 
Which  like  two  spirits  do  suggest  me  still: 
The  better  angel  is  a  man  right  fair,'2 
The  worser  spirit  a  woman  colour'd  ill.3 
To  win  me  soon  to  hell,  my  female  evil 
Tempteth  my  better  angel  from  my  side, 
And  would  corrupt  my  saint  to  be  a  devil, 
Wooing  his  purity  with  her  foul  pride. 
And  whether  that  my  angel  be  turn'd  fiend 
Suspect  I  may,  yet  not  directly  tell; 
But  being  both  from  me,  both  to  each  friend, 
I  guess  one  angel  in  another's  hell: 

Yet  this  shall  I  ne'er  know,  but  live  in  doubt, 
Till  my  bad  angel  fire  my  good  one  out. 


1  Cp.  Son.  yS-cxxxiv.  1.  4. 

8  "That  angel  Knowledge." — Love's  Labor's  Lost,  i.  i,  1.  113. 

3  Mother  Nature. 


Love 's  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.      93 


SCENE  III. 


Hope  to  Grace.  68==xxxin. 

Full  many  a  glorious  morning  have  I  seen 
Flatter  the  mountain  tops  with  sovereign  eye, 
Kissing  with  golden  face  the  meadows  green ; 
Gilding  pale  streams  with  heavenly  alchemy:1 
Anon  permit  the  basest  clouds  to  ride 
With  ugly  rack  on  his  celestial  face, 
And  from  the  forlorn  world  his  visage  hide, 
Stealing  unseen  to  west  with  this  disgrace: 
E'en  so  my  sun  one  early  morn  did  shine 
With  all-triumphant  splendour  on  my  brow; 
But  out,  alack!  he  was  but  one  hour  mine; 
The  region  cloud  hath  mask'd  him  from  me  now. 

Yet  him  for  this  my  love  no  whit  disdaineth; 

Suns2  of  the  world  may  stain  when  heaven's  sun 
staineth. 


1  The  alchemist  nurses  eternal  hope. — Nov.  Org.,    p.   119. 

2  ',  the  angel  of  light. 


94  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  III, 


Grace  to  Hope.  69=cxiv. 

Or  whether  doth  my  mind,  being  crown'd  with  you, 
Drink  up  the  monarch's  plague,  this  flattery? 
Or  whether  shall  I  say  mine  eye  saith  true, 
And  that  your  love  taught  it  this  alchemy, 
To  make  of  monsters  and  things  indigest 
Such  cherubins  as  your  sweet  self  resemble, 
Creating  every  bad  a  perfect  best, 
As  fast  as  objects  to  his  beams  assemble? 
O,  'tis  the  first;  'tis  flatt'ry  in  my  seeing, 
And  my  great  mind  most  kingly  drinks  it  up: 
Mine  eye  well  knows  what  with  his  gust  is  'greeing, 
And  to  his  palate  doth  prepare  the  cup: 
If  it  be  poison'd,  'tis  the  lesser  sin, 
That  mine  eye  loves  it  and  doth  first  begin. 


Vain,  and  inclined  to  secret  gallantries,  Elizabath  demanded,  and  received, 
incessant  homaga,  for  ths  most  part  in  extravagant  mythological  terms,  from 
the  ablest  of  her  subjects — from  Sidney,  from  Spenser,  from  Raleigh,  and  was 
determined,  in  short,  that  ths  whole  literature  of  ths  time  should  turn  towards 
her  as  its  central  point.  Shakespeare  was  the  only  great  poet  of  the  period 
who  absolutely  declined  to  comply  with  this  demand.  —  \\*illiam  Shakespeare^ 
A  Critical  Study,  Geo.  Brandes,  p.  41. 

And  Shakespeare  had  seen  the  young  Robert  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex,  who, 
in  1577,  when  only  ten  years  old,  had  made  a  sensation  at  court  by  wearing  his 
hat  in  the  Queen's  presence  and  denying  her  request  for  a  kiss. — Ibid.  p.  243. 

Essex's  grandmother,  on  his  mother's  side,  was  an  own  sister  to  Anne  Boleyn 
and  to  an  inherited  family  quarrel,  most  bitter  and  venomous,  is  chargeable  the 
mystery  of  William  Shake-speare. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       95 

SCENE  IV. 

Enter  THE  GODS  OF  GRACE1  and  KNOWLEDGE. 
Grace  to  Knowledge.     7o=xx. 

A  woman's  face  with  Nature's  own  hand  painted, 

Hast  thou,  the  master-mistress2  of  my  passion; 

A  woman's  gentle  heart,  but  not  acquainted 

With  shifting  change,  as  is  false  women's  fashion; 

An  eye  more  bright  than  theirs,  less  false  in  rolling, 

Gilding  the  object  whereupon  it  gazeth; 

A  man  in  hue,  all  hues  in  his  controlling, 

Which  steals  men's  eyes  and  women's  souls  amazeth. 

And  for  a  woman  wert  thou  first  created;3 

Till  Nature,  as  she  wrought  thee,  fell  a-doting, 

And  by  addition  me  of  thee  defeated, 

By  adding  one  thing  to  my  purpose  nothing.4 

But  since  she  prick'd  thee  out  for  women's  pleasure, 
Mine  be  thy  love  and  thy  love's  use  their  treasure. 

1  Beauty,  Truth  and  Rarity, 
GRACE  in  all  simplicity, 
Here  enclosed  in  cinders  lie. 
The  Phoenix  and  Turtle. 

3  My  brain  I'll  prove  the  female  to  my  soul; 
My  soul,  the  father:  and  these  two  beget 
A  generation  of  still-breeding  thoughts. 

Richard  //.,  v.  5. 

3  Mother  Eve.      Cp.  sub-note  i,  p.  79. 
*  An  ungrateful  act  in  Nature. 

The  author  of  the  Sonnets,  admittedly,  was  the  author  of  the  Poems  and  the 
Plays,  and  the  whole  Shakespearian  question  would  seem  to  resolve  itself  into  the 
question,  who  was  the  author  of  the  Sonnets.  —  The  l\Iystci~\' of  William  Sliakc- 
sfieare,  Judge  Webb,  p.  156. 


96  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 


Kno^vledge  to  Grace.      7 1  =cxxi. 

'Tis  better  to  be  vile  than  vile  esteem'd, 
When  not  to  be,  receives  reproach  of  being; 
And  the  just  pleasure  lost,  which  is  so  deem'd, 
Not  by  our  feeling,  but  by  others'  seeing: 
For  why  should  others'  false  adulterate  eyes1 
Give  salutation  to  my  sportive  blood? 
Or  on  my  frailties  why  are  frailer  spies, 2 
Which  in  their  wills  count  bad  what  I  think  good  ? 
No,  I  am  that  I  am, 8  and  they  that  level 
At  my  abuses,  reckon  up  their  own: 
I  may  be  straight,  though  they  themselves  be  bevel; 
By  their  rank  thoughts  my  deeds  must  not  be  shown; 
Unless  this  general  evil  they  maintain, 
All  men  are  bad,  and  in  their  badness  reign. 


is  here  slurring  Rcuson  and   A'wr'v,  psychological  mothers  of 
(iracc  and  /A;/V',  respectively. 
2  Grace  and  Hope. 
*  Knoii'ledge  partakes  of  the  character  of  his  grandson,    7'ru(h.      Cp.  Son. 

I25-CXII.    11.  3,  12. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       97 


SCENE  IV. 

Grace  to  Knowledge.  72=xcn. 

But  do  thy  worst  to  steal  thyself  away, 
For  term  of  life  thou  art  assured  mine, 
And  life  no  longer  than  thy  love  will  stay, 
For  it  depends  upon  that  love  of  thine. 
Then  need  I  not  to  fear  the  worst  of  wrongs, 
When  in  the  least  of  them  my  life  hath  end; 
I  see  a  better  state  to  me  belongs 
Than  that  which  on  thy  humour  doth  depend. 
Thou  canst  not  vex  me  with  inconstant  mind, * 
Since  that  my  life  on  thy  revolt  doth  lie;— 

0,  what  a  happy  title  do  I  find, 
Happy  to  have  thy  love,  happy  to  die! 

But  what's  so  blessed-fair  that  fears  no  blot? 
Thou  may'st  be  false,  and  yet  I  know  it  not. 

1  Cp.  couplet,  Son.  66-Lin. 

We  are  now  [1592]  entering  on  a  new  phase  in  the  career  of  Lord  Essex, 
one  which  indirectly  led  to  his  ruin.  Up  to  this  time  he  had  shown  no  desire 
to  mingle  in  politics  and  state  intrigues.  Warlike  service  abroad,  tiltings, 
Masques,  and  revels  at  home,  love,  and  the  excitement  of  his  life  at  court, 
had  sufficiently  amused  him. — Lives  of  The  Earls  of  Essex,  Devereux,  Vol. 

1.  p.  276. 


98  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

ACT  III. 
Knowledge  to  Grace.    73=xxxn. 

If  thou  survive  my  well-contented  day, 

When  that  churl  Death  my  bones  with  dust  shall  cover, 

And  shalt  by  fortune  once  more  re-survey 

These  poor  rude  lines  of  thy  deceased  lover: 

Compare  them  with  the  bett'ring  of  the  time, 

And  though  they  be  outstripp'd  by  every  pen, 

Reserve  them  for  my  love,  not  for  their  rhyme, 

Exceeded  by  the  height  of  happier  men. 

O,  then  vouchsafe  me  but  this  loving  thought: 

'Had  my  friend's  Muse  grown  with  this  growing  age,  * 

A  dearer  birth  than  this  his  love  had  brought, 

To  march  in  ranks  of  better  equipage: 

But  since  he  died  and  poets  better  prove, 2 
Theirs  for  their  style  I'll  read,  his  for  his  love.' 


1  It  seems  that  the  sin  of  Knozvledge  was  that  he  had  become  a  "back  num- 
ber."    Cp.  Sons.  62-cxi.i.,  85-civ.,  86-xxn. 

2  Hope  and  Grace. 

'Mongst  all  the  creatures  in  this  spacious  round, 
Of  the  bird's  kind,  the  Phoenix1  is  alone, 
Which  best  by  you2  of  living  things  is  known; 
None  like  to  that,  none  like  to  you  is  found. 
Your  beauty  is  the  hot  and  splend'rous  sun, 
The  precious  spices  be  your  chaste  desire, 
Which  being  kindled  by  that  heav'nly  fire, 
Your  life  so  like  the  Phosnix's  begun: 
Yourself  thus  burned  in  that  sacred  flame, 
With  so  rare  sweetness  all  the  heav'ns  perfuming, 
Again  increasing,  as  you  are  consuming, 
Only  by  dying,  born  the  very  same; 

And  winged  by  fame,  you  to  the  stars  ascend,2 

So  you  of  time  shall  live  beyond  the  end. 
In  Allusion  to  the  Phoenix,  Michael  Dravton,  1594. 

1  The  Sonnets  of  i6og,  a  Dismantled  Masque.     Cp.  Mother  Nature's  lines,  p.  22. 

2  The  Masque  and  the  authgr  of  the  Masque,  to  be  memorialized  by  a  constellation.     See. 
Divus  Shake-speare i  index, 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.       99 


SCENE  IV. 

Grace  to  Knowledge.  74=xciu. 

So  shall  I  live,  supposing  thou  art  true, 
Like  a  deceived  husband;  so  love's  face 
May  still  seem  love  to  me,  though  alter'd  new: 
Thy  looks  with  me,  thy  heart  in  other  place. 1 
For  there  can  live  no  hatred  in  thine  eye, 
Therefore  in  that  I  cannot  know  thy  change- 
In  many's  looks  the  false  heart's  history 
Is  writ  in  moods  and  frowns  and  wrinkles  strange, 
But  heav'n  in  thy  creation  did  decree 
That  in  thy  face  sweet  love  should  ever  dwell; 
Whate'er  thy  thoughts  or  thy  heart's  workings  be, 
Thy  looks  should  nothing  thence  but  sweetness  tell. 
How  like  Eve's  apple  doth  thy  beauty  grow,2 
If  thy  sweet  virtue  answer  not  thy  show! 


1  With  Nature. 

2  How  like  is  thy  beauty  to  that  Apple  of  Eve,  smiling  so  ripely  on  the  out- 
side, and  so  rotten  within,  if  thy  sweet  virtue  correspond  not  to  the  promiss  of 
that  fair  face. — Shakespeare's  Satinets,   Gerald  Massey,  p.  232. 

Jove  thou  shalt  see  my  commendations, 
To  be  unworthy  and  impartial, 
To  make  of  her  an  extallation, 
Whose  beauty  is  divine  majestical; 

Look  on  that  painted  picture  there,1  behold 
The  rich  wrought  Phrenix  of  Arabian  gold. 
Mother  Xature  in  Loi'e ' s  Martyr,  p.  16. 
1  Cp.  sub-note  i,  P.  J4, 


TOO  Shake-speare  England ' s  Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 

Kno^wledge  to  Grace.    75=cix. 

O,  never  say  that  I  was  false  of  heart, 
Though  absence  seem'd  my  flame1  to  qualify: 
As  easy  might  I  from  myself  depart, 
As  from  my  soul,  which  in  thy  breast  doth  lie: 
That  is  my  home  of  love:  if  I  have  rang'd, 
Like  him  that  travels  I  return  again, 
Just  to  the  time,  not  with  the  time  exchang'd, 
So  that  myself  bring  water  for  my  stain. 2  \_Enter  Nature. 
Never  believe,  though  in  my  nature  reign'd 
All  frailties  that  besiege  all  kinds  of  blood, 
That  it  could  so  prepost'rously  be  stain'd, 
To  leave  for  nothing  all  thy  sum  of  good; 
For  nothing  this  wide  universe  I  call, 
Save  thou,  my  rose;  in  it  thou  art  my  all. 

^Nature  comes  forward. 


1  The  angel  of  light. 

2  For  being  in  love  with  Dame  Nature. 

Nature  to  Phoenix. 

Tell  me  [O  Mirror]  of  our  earthly  time, 
Tell  me  sweet  Phoenix^  glory  of  mine  age, 
Who  blots  thy  beauty  with  foul  envie's  crime,2 
And  locks  thee  up  in  fond  Suspicions  cage?3 
Can  any  human  heart  bear  thee  such  rage? 

Daunt  their  proud  stomachs  with  thy  piercing  eye, 
Unchain  Love's  sweetness  at  thy  liberty. 

Robert  Chester,*  in  Love  s  Martyr,  p.  26. 

1  The  Sonnets  of  1609. 

2  Cp.  Peele's  lines  p.  18. 

3  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 

*  For  the  identity  of  this  hitherto  unknown  and  never-again-heard-of-poet  [except  in  Love's 
Martyr]  see  noms  de  plume  of  Essex,  frontispiece. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     101 


SCENE  IV. 

Grace  to  Natiire.     76=cxxxiu. 

Beshrew  that  heart  that  makes  my  heart  to  groan 
For  that  deep  wound  it  gives  my  friend  and  me! 
Is't  not  enough  to  torture  me  alone, 
But  slave  to  slav'ry  my  sweet'st  friend  must  be? 
Me  from  myself  thy  cruel  eye  hath  tak'n, 
And  my  next  self  thou  harder  hast  engross'd: 
Of  him,  myself,  and  thee,  I  am  forsak'n; 
A  torment  thrice  threefold  thus  to  be  cross'd. 
Prison  my  heart  in  thy  steel  bosom's  ward, * 
But  then  my  friend's  heart  let  my  poor  heart  bail; 
Whoe'er  keeps  me,  let  my  heart  be  his  guard; 
Thou  canst  not  then  use  rigour  in  my  jail:3 
And  yet  thou  wilt;  for  I,  being  pent  in  thee, 
Perforce  am  thine,  and  all  that  is  in  me. 


1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  31. 

2  So  the  Quarto.     Cp.  note  3,  p.  34. 

INVOCATIO  AD  APOLLINEM  ET  PIERIDES. 
To  your  high  influence  we  commend 
Our  following  labours,  and  sustend 
Our  mutuall  palms,  prepar'd  to  gratulate 
An  honourable  friend:  then  propagate 
With  your  illustrate  faculties 
Our  mentall  powers:  Instruct  us  how  to  rise 
In  weighty  Numbers,  well  pursu'd, 
And  varied  from  the  Multitude: 
Be  lavish  once,  and  plenteously  profuse 
Your  holy  waters,  to  our  thirstie  Muse, 
That  we  may  give  a  round  to  him 
In  a  Castalian  boule,  crown'd  to  the  brim. 

Vatum  Chorus,  Love's  Martyr,  1601,  p.  179. 

These  'Vatum  Chorus'  pieces  are  in  good  sooth  poor  enough.  They  have  touches  like 
Chapman  at  his  worst- — Notes  to  Laye's  Martyr  [Dr.  Grosart,  Ed.],  1878,  p.  240. 

Dr.  Grosart  intimates  that  only  Chapman  was  concerned — but  was  not  Ben  Jonson's  the 
master  hand?  It  will  be  remembered  that  in  these  Love's  Mfirtyr  poems,  Marston,  Chapman 
and  Jonson  witness  Shake-speare's  Will;  i.  e.,  the  eighteen  stanza  poem  of  The  Phcenix  and 
Turtle  Dwe. 


io2  Shake-speare  England  *  s  ( 7rsseS\ 


ACT  III. 


Grace  to  Knowledge.  77=xLii. 

That  thou  hast  her,1  it  is  not  all  my  grief, 
And  yet  it  may  be  said  I  lov'd  her  dearly; 
That  she  hath  thee,  is  of  my  wailing  chief, 
A  loss  in  love  that  touches  me  more  nearly. 
Loving  offenders,  thus  I  will  excuse  ye: 
Thou  dost  love  her,  because  thou  know'st  I  love  her; 
And  for  my  sake  e'en  so  doth  she  abuse  me, 
Suff'ring  my  friend  for  my  sake  to  approve  her. 
If  I  lose  thee,  my  loss  is  my  love's  gain, 
And  losing  her,  my  friend  hath  found  that  loss; 
Both  find  each  other,  and  I  lose  both  twain, 
And  both  for  my  sake  lay  on  me  this  cross: 
But  here's  the  joy;  my  friend  and  I  are  one;3 
Sweet  flatt'ry!  then  she  loves  but  me  alone. 


1  Mother  Nature. 

2  This  "Conceit"  must  have  greatly  pleased  Ben  Jonson. 

Hor.     Caesar  speaks  after  common  men  in  this, 

To  make  a  difference  of  me,  for  my  poorness; 

As  if  the  filth  of  pov'rty  sunk  as  deep 

Into  a  knowing  spirit,  as  the  bane 

Of  riches  doth  into  an  ign'rant  soul. 

No,  Caesar,  they  be  pathless,  moorish  minds, 

That  being  once  made  rotten  with  the  dung 

Of  damned  riches,  ever  after  sink 

Beneath  the  steps  of  any  villany. 

But  knowledge  is  the  nectar  that  keeps  sweet 

A  perfect  soul,  even  in  this  grave  of  sin. 

7  Vic  I\>ct aster,  v.  i. 

'There  was  a  time'  says  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  sometime  secretary  to  the  Karl 
of  Essex,  'when  Sir  Fulke  Greville,  .  .  .  had  almost  superinduced  into  favour 
the  Earl  of  Southampton,  which  yet  being  timely  discovered,  my  lord  of  Essex 
chose  to  evaporate  his  thoughts  in  a  Sonnat  [being  /it's  common  icay\,  to  be 
sung  before  the  Queen  [as  it  was]  by  one  Hales,  in  whose  voice  she  took  some 
pleasure;  whereof  the  couplet,  methinks,  had  as  much  of  the  Hermit  as  of  the 
Poet'. — Reliquice  Wotloniance,  p.  163,  [Quoted  by  IMassev,  p.  44.] 


Love  s  Labor  s   Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     103 

SCENE  IV. 

Grace  to  Nature.      78=cxxxiv. 

So,  now  I  have  confess'd  that  he1  is  thine, 
And  I  myself  am  mortgag'd  to  thy  'Will',2 
Myself  I'll  forfeit,  so  that  other  mine 
Thou  wilt  restore,  to  be  my  comfort  still.3 
But  thou  wilt  not,  nor  he  will  not  be  free, 
For  thou  art  covetous  and  he  is  kind; 
He  learn'd  but  surety-like  to  write  for  me 
Under  that  bond  that  him  as  fast  doth  bind. 
The  statute  of  thy  beauty  thou  wilt  take, 
Thou  usurer, 4  that  put'st  forth  all  to  use, 
And  sue  a  friend  came  debtor  for  my  sake; 
So  him  I  lose  through  my  unkind  abuse. 

Him  have  I  lost;  thou  hast  both  him  and  me: 
He  pays  the  whole,  and  yet  am  I  not  free.5 

[  Curtain. 


1  The  god  of  Knowledge. 

2  Cp.  note  i,  p.  31. 
3-Cp.  Son.  Gy-cxLiv.  1.  i. 

*  Cp.  Son.  54-Lxxv.  1.  4  and  all  of  Son.  IO-LII. 
5  Cp.  Son.  yo-xx.  1.  12. 

In  the  letter  of  advice  address3d  by  the  Earl  of  Essex  to  Sir  Fulke  Greville 
on  his  studies,  first  printed  by  Mr.  Spedding  as  written  by  Bacon,  the  Earl  is 
made  to  say,  "for  poets,  I  can  commend  none,  being  resolved  to  be  ever  a  stran- 
ger to  them."  However  this  may  have  been  intended  to  be  seriously  spoken 
in  character  by  the  Earl  to  the  Knight  [Greville,  who  was  himself  a  poet], 
when  considered  with  reference  to  the  actual  facts  now  known  concerning  them 
both,  it  may  be  taken  as  a  pretty  good  joke. — Jtidge  Holmes'1  [Baconian]  Au- 
thorship of  Shakespeare,  Vol.  I.  p.  185. 


IO4  Shake-speare  England '  s  Ulysses ', 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  V.     Enter  THE  GODDESS  HOPE  and  THE  GODS 
OF  KNOWLEDGE  and  GRACE. 

Hope  to  Knowledge.  79=xcvn. 

How  like  a  winter  hath  my  absence  been 
From  thee,  the  pleasure  of  the  fleeting  year! 
What  freezings  have  I  felt,  what  dark  days  seen ! 
What  old  December's  bareness  every  where! 
And  yet  this  time  remov'd  was  summer's  time, 
The  teeming  autumn,  big  with  rich  increase, 
Bearing  the  wanton  burthen  of  the  prime, 
Like  widow'd  wombs  after  their  lord's  decease: 
Yet  this  abundant  issue  seem'd  to  me 
But  hope  of  orphans  and  unfather'd  fruit; 
For  summer  and  his  pleasures  wait  on  thee, 1 
And,  thou  away,  the  very  birds  are  mute, 2 
Or,  if  they  sing,  'tis  with  so  dull  a  cheer, 
That  leaves  look  pale,  dreading  the  winter's  near. 

1  There  is  no  darkness  but  ignorance.  —  Twelfth  Night,  iv.  2.. 

2  Sound  has  no  existence  for  the  deaf,  nor  light  for  the  sightless.     Cp.  Son. 
85-civ.  1.  14. 

This  is  the  Anchor-hold,  the  sea,  the  river, 
The  lesson  and  the  substance  of  my  song, 
This  is  the  rock  my  ship  did  seek  to  shiver, 
And  in  this  ground  with  Adders  was  I  stung,1 
And  in  a  loathsome  pit  was  often  flung:''2 
My  beauty  and  my  virtues  captivate, 
To  Love,  dissembling  Love,  that  I  did  hate.3 
The  /Vmv//.v4  to  Mother  Nature  in  /.OTC'S  Martyr,  p.  30. 

1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  109. 

2  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 

3  The  Sonnets  long  to  be  a  play  and  not  merely  love  Sonnets. 

So,  till  the  judgment  that  yourself  arise, 
\ou  live  in  this,  and  dwell  in  lovers'  eyes. 
Couplet,  Son.  ISO-LV. 

*  Allegory  for  the  Sonnets  of  1609. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     105 


SCENE  V. 

Knowledge  to  Hope.  8o=LXxm. 

That  time  of  year  thou  may'st  in  me  behold 
When  yellow  leaves,  or  none,  or  few,  do  hang 
Upon  those  boughs  which  shake  against  the  cold, 
Bare  ruin'd  choirs,  where  late  the  sweet  birds  sang. 
In  me  thou  see'st  the  twilight  of  such  day 
As  after  sunset  fadeth  in  the  west, 
Which  by  and  by  black  night  doth  take  away, 
Death's  second  self,  that  seals  up  all  in  rest. 
In  me  thou  see'st  the  glowing  of  such  fire, 
That  on  the  ashes  of  his  youth  doth  lie, 
As  the  death-bed  whereon  it  must  expire, 
Consum'd  with  that  which  it  was  nourish'd  by. !  [strong, 
This  thou  perceiv'st,  which  makes  thy  love  more 
To  love  that  well  which  thou  must  leave  ere  long. 


1  Plato  is  so  centred,  that  he  can  well  spare  all  his  dogmas Be- 
fore all  men,  he  saw  the  intellectual  values  of  the  moral  sentiment he 

kindled  a  fire  so  truly  in  the  centre,  that  we  see  the  sphere  illuminated,  and 
can  distinguish  poles,  equator,  and  lines  of  latitude,  every  arc  and  node:  a 
theory  so  averaged,  so  modulated  that  you  would  say,  the  winds  of  ages  have 
swept  through  this  rhythmic  structure,  and  not  that  it  was  the  brief  extempore 
blotting  of  one  short  lived  scribe.  Hence  it  has  happened  that  a  very  well- 
marked  class  of  souls,  namely,  those  who  delight  in  giving  a  spiritual,  that  is, 
an  ethico-intellectual  expression  to  every  truth,  by  exhibiting  an  ulterior  end 
which  is  yet  legitimate  to  it,  are  said  to  Platonize.  Shakespeare  is  a  Platonist, 
when  he  writes: 

He  that  can  endure 

To  follow  with  allegiance  a  fallen  lord, 
Does  conquer  him  that  did  his  master  conquer, 
And  earns  a  place  i'  the  story. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra,  in.  2. 

Hamlet  is  a  pure  Plalonist,  and  'tis  ths  magnitude  only  of  Shakespsare's 
proper  genius  that  hinders  him  from  being  ch  ss^d  as  the  most  eminent  of  this 
school. — Emerson  s  Works,  Vol.  II.  pp.  72-74. 


io6  Shake-speare  England *s    Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 


Grace  to  Knowledge.    8 1 =cxin. 

Since  I  left  you,  mine  eye  is  in  my  mind; 
And  that  which  governs  me  to  go  about 
Doth  part  his  function,  and  is  partly  blind, 
Seems  seeing,  but  effectually  is  out; 
For  it  no  form  delivers  to  the  heart 
Of  bird,  of  flower,  or  shape,  which  it  doth  latch; 
Of  his  quick  objects  hath  the  mind  no  part, 
Nor  his  own  vision  holds  what  it  doth  catch; 
For  if  it  see  the  rud'st  or  gentlest  sight, 
The  most  sweet  favour  or  deformed'st  creature, 
The  mountain  or  the  sea,  the  day  or  night, 
The  crow1  or  dove,  it  shapes  them  to  your  feature: 
Incapable  of  more,  replete  with  you, 
My  most  true  mind  thus  maketh  mind2  untrue. 


1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  85. 

2  Cp.  1.  7  above. 

"Essex  urged  the  Queen  to  make  Bacon  Solicitor,  in  which  he  was  backed  by 
Burleigh.  But  here  again,  after  a  struggle  of  a  year  and  a  half,  during  which 
the  office  remained  vacant,  disappointment  awaited  him,  and  Sergeant  Fleming 
was  nominated.  Essex  felt  this  deeply  on  his  friend's  account,  to  whom  he 
endeavored  to  make  ammends  by  a  gift,  the  munificence  of  which,  and  the 
delicacy  with  which  it  was  offered,  are  admirable.  We  have  the  circumstance 
related  by  Bacon  himself. 

"  'Mr.  Bacon'  said  the  Earl,  'the  Queen  hath  denied  me  the  place  for  you, 
and  hath  placed  another;  / '  knoic  you  arc  the  least  part  of  your  0101  matter,1 
but  you  fare  ill,  because  you  have  chosen  me  for  your  mean  and  dependance; 
you  have  sfent  your  time  and  thoughts  in  my  matters:  I  die  if  I  do  not  some- 
what towards  your  fortune;  you  shall  not  deny  to  accept  a  piece  of  land,2  which 
I  will  bestow  on  you.'  " — Lives  of  The  Earls  of  Essex,  Derereux,  Vol.  I.  p.  286. 

1  Cp.  italicized  lines  "in  that  he  set  me  about"  with  the  context,  p.  80. 

2  "The  land  was  Twickenham  park  and  garden,  afterwards  sold  by  Bacon  for  1800  £." 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     107 


SCENE  V. 

Knowledge  to  (trace.  82=XLix. 

Against  that  time,  if  ever  that  time  come, 
When  I  shall  see  thee  frown  on  my  defects, 
Whenas  thy  love  hath  cast  his  utmost  sum, 
Call'd  to  that  audit  by  advis'd  respects; 
Against  that  time  when  thou  shalt  strangely  pass 
And  scarcely  greet  me  with  that  sun,  thine  eye, 
When  love,  converted  from  the  thing  it  was, 
Shall  reasons  find  of  settled  gravity; 
Against  that  time  do  I  ensconce  me  here 
Within  the  knowledge  of  mine  own  desert, 
And  this  my  hand  against  myself  uprear, 1 
To  guard  the  lawful  reasons  on  thy  part: 

To  leave  poor  me  thou  hast  the  strength  of  laws, 
Since  why  to  love  I  can  allege  no  cause. 


1  Cp.  Son.  55-x.  1.  6. 

2  Grace  is  the  son  of  the  goddess  Reason. 

I  come,  I  come,  and  now  farewell  that  strond, 
Upon  "whose  craggy  rocks  my  ship  was  rent; 
Your  ill  beseeming  follies  made  me  fond, 
And  in  a  vasty  cell  I  up  was  pent,1 
Where  my  fresh  blooming  beauty  I  have  spent. 
O  blame  yourselves  ill  nurtured  cruel  swains, 
That  fill'd  my  scarlet  glory  full  of  stains.2 

The  Pha-nix*  to  Mother  Nature  in  J.oi'e' s  Martyr,  p.  32. 

1  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 

2  Cp.  note  i,  p.  IOQ. 

3  Allegory  for  the  Sonnets  of  1609;  i.  e.,  the  Dismantled  Masque  of  Loz>e's  Labor's  Won. 


loB  Shake-speare  England 's    Ulysses, 


ACT  III, 


Grace  to  Knowledge.   83=LXxvi. 

Why  is  my  verse  so  barren  of  new  pride  ? 

So  far  from  variation  or  quick  change  ? 

Why  with  the  time  do  I  not  glance  aside. 

To  new-found  methods  and  to  compounds  strange  ? 

Why  write  I  still  all  one,  ever  the  same, 

And  keep  invention  in  a  noted  weed,  * 

That  every  word  doth  almost  tell  my  name,2 

Showing  their  birth  and  where  they  did  proceed  ? 

O,  know,  sweet  love,  I  always  write  of  you, 

And  you  and  love  are  still  my  argument; 

So  all  my  best  is  dressing  old  words  new, 

Spending  again  what  is  already  spent: 
For  as  the  sun  is  daily  new  and  old, 
So  is  my  love  still  telling  what  is  told. 


1  Eve's  Tree  of  Knowledge. 

All  knowledge  appeareth  to  be  a  plant  of  God's  own  planting. — Int.  of  \at- 
ure,  Bacon,  p.  32. 

2  For  light  that  makes  darkness  more  oppressive  see  Judge  Webb's  most  lucid 
exposition  of    this   "noted  weed"   Sonnet.  —  The  Mystery  of    ll'iliiam   Shake- 
speare, p.  156. 


Love 's  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     109 


SCENE  V. 

Knowledge  to  Hope.  84=xxxiv. 
Why  didst  thou  promise  such  a  beauteous  day, 
And  make  me  travel  forth  without  my  cloak, 1 
To  let  base  clouds  o'ertake  me  in  my  way, 
Hiding  thy  brav'ry  in  their  rotten  smoke  ? 
'Tis  not  enough  that  through  the  cloud  they  break, 
To  dry  the  rain  on  my  storm-beaten  face, 
For  no  man  well  of  such  a  salve  can  speak 
That  heals  the  wound  and  cures  not  the  disgrace:3 
Nor  can  thy  shame  give  physic  to  my  grief; 
Though  thou  repent,  yet  I  have  still  the  loss: 
Th'  offender's  sorrow  lends  but  weak  relief 
To  him  that  bears  the  strong  offence's  cross. 

Ah!  but  those  tears  are  pearl  which  thy  love  sheds, 
And  they  are  rich,  and  ransom  all  ill  deeds. 


1  I  cannot,  however,  doubt  that  Shakespeare  was,  to  use  his  own  words,  made 
to  "travel  forth  without"  that  "cloak,"  which,   if  he  had  not  been  lured,  we 
may  be  sure  that  he  would  not  have  discarded.      Hardly  had  he  laid  the  cloak 
aside  before  he  was  surprised  according  to  a  preconcerted  scheme,  and  probably 
roughly  handled,  for  we  find  him  lame  soon  afterwards  [Son.  xxxvn.  11.  3,  9] 
and  apparently  not  fully  recovered  a  twelve-month  later  [Son.  LXXXIX.  1.  3] .     The 
offence  above  indicated — a  sin  of  very  early  youth-  for  which  Shakespeare  was 
bitterly  penitent,  and  towards  which  not  a  trace  of  further  tendency  can  be  dis- 
cerned in  any  subsequent  sonnet  or  work — this  single  offence  is  the  utmost  that 
can  be  brought  against  Shakespeare  with  a  shadow  of  evidence  in  its  support. 
— Shakespeare"1  s  Sonnets,   Samuel  Butler,  p.  70. 

To  understand  Samuel  Butler,  it  would  seem  that  note  i,  p.  90  is  sufficient, 
but  not  so;  the  chances  are  that  naught  but  chaste  and  immaculate  emotions 
ever  crossed  the  unsullied  mirror  of  his  imagination,  but  such  gross  slanders 
illustrate  the  effeminacy  of  minds  to  which  opportunity1  is  positive  evidence  of 
wrong  doing. 

2  Cp.  note  i,  p.  98. 

1  Cp.  lines  from  Lucrece,  p,  70, 


iio  Shake-spear e  England' s  Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 


Hope  to  Knowledge.    85 

To  me,  fair  friend,  you  never  can  be  old, 

For  as  you  were  when  first  your  eye  I  eyed, 

Such  seems  your  beauty  still.      Three  winters  cold 

Have  from  the  forests  shook  three  summers'  pride; 

Three  beauteous  springs  to  yellow  autumn  turn'd, 

In  process  of  the  seasons  have  I  seen; 

Three  April  perfumes  in  three  hot  Junes  burn'd, 

Since  first  I  saw  you  fresh,  which  yet  are  green. ' 

Ah!  yet  doth  beauty,  like  a  dial-hand, 

Steal  from  his  figure  and  no  pace  perceiv'd; 

So  your  sweet  hue,  which  methinks  still  doth  stand, 

Hath  motion,  and  mine  eye  may  be  deceiv'd:2 

For  fear  of  which,  hear  this,  thou  age  unbred; 

Ere  vou  were  born  was  beauty's  summer  dead.3 


1  The  characters  are  Pythagoreans  and  the  time  of  the  play,  five  years;  each 
act  a  year.      In  Act  I.  Hope  was  Desire  and  Knoisledfre,  Rarity.     Cp.    Dra- 
matis Personae,  p.  24. 

2  'Hue'   means  shape,  figure,    and  not  tint. — Shakespeare*  s   l\)cms,    ll'vtid- 
ham,  p.  275. 

Is  not  Mr.  Wyndham  in  error?  Cp.  Sonnet  70  xx.,  (,'race  to  Knoicled^e,  1.  ft, 
"Gilding  the  object  whereupon  it  gazath." 

Protagoras  assarts  that  nothing  exists  of  itself,  nor  can  any  thing  be  desig- 
nated by  any  quality,  for  what  we  call  great,  will,  in  reference  to  something 
else,  be  also  small,  and  what  we  call  heavy,  light,  and  so  on,  so  that  nothing 
ever  exists  but  is  always  becoming.  Consequently  all  things  spring  from  mo- 
tion, and  the  relation  that  they  bear  to  each  other.  Thus,  with  respect  to  col- 
or, it  docs  not  actually  c'.v/.sV,  it  is  neither  in  the  object  seen  nor  in  the  eye 
itself,  but  results  from  the  application  of  the  eye  to  the  object,  and  so  is  the 
intermediate  production  of  both. — Introduction  to  the  Theidetus*  Halo,  p.  i. 

?  Cp.  Son.  79-xcvn.  1.  12. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     1 1 1 


SCENE  V. 

Grace  to  Knowledge.  86=xxn. 

My  glass  shall  not  persuade  me  I  am  old, 
So  long  as  youth  and  thou  are  of  one  date; 
But  when  in  thee  time's  furrows  I  behold, 
Then  look  I  death  my  days  should  expiate. 
For  all  that  beauty  that  doth  cover  thee, 
Is  but  the  seemly  raiment  of  my  heart, 
Which  in  thy  breast  doth  live,  as  thine  in  me: 
How  can  I  then  be  elder  than  thou  art? 
O,  therefore,  love,  be  of  thyself  so  wary 
As  I,  not  for  myself  but  for  thee  will; 
Bearing  thy  heart,  which  I  will  keep  so  chary 
As  tender  nurse  her  babe  from  faring  ill. 

Presume1  not  on  thy  heart  when  mine  is  slain; 

Thou  gav'st  me  thine,  not  to  give  back  again. 


1  "The  angel  of  light  that  was,  when  he  presumed  before  his  fall."  Cp.  note 
i,  p.  78. 

The  compliment  which  ths  poet  pays  the  Earl  of  Esssx  in  the  prologue  to 
Act  5,  of  "Henry  V."  gives  as  little  indication  of  the  personal  relation  in  which 
they  stood  to  each  other,1  as  the  much  discussed  resemblance  of  some  passages 
in  "Hamlet"  with  letters  of  the  Earl  of  Essex. — -William  Shakespeare,  Karl 
Ehe,  p.  177. 

1  Cp,  note  5,  p.  18, 


H2  Shake-speare  England s  Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 


87=xciv. 
Knowledge  to  PI  ope  and  Grace. 

They  that  have  pow'r  to  hurt,  and  will  do  none, * 
That  do  not  do  the  thing  they  most  do  show,2 
Who,  moving  others,  are  themselves  as  stone, 
Unmoved,  cold,  and  to  temptation  slow; 
They  rightly  do  inherit  heav'n's  graces 
And  husband  Nature's  riches  from  expense; 
They  are  the  lords  and  owners  of  their  faces, 
Others,  but  stewards  of  their  excellence. 
The  summer's  flower  is  to  the  summer  sweet, 
Though  to  itself  it  only  live  and  die, 
But  if  that  flower  with  base  infection  meet, 
The  basest  weed  outbraves  his  dignity: 

For  sweetest  things  turn  sourest  by  their  deeds; 

Lilies  that  fester  smell  far  worse  than  weeds. 


1  Posse  et  nolle,  nobile. — Love's  Martyr,  xvi.  and  text,  p.  3. 

2  Though  all  the  wits  of  all  the  ages  should  meet  together  and  combine  and 
transmit  their  labors,  yet  will  no  great  progress  ever  be  made  in  Science  by 
means  of  Anticipations;  bacausa  radical  errors  in  the  first  concoction  of  the  mind 
are  not  to  be  cured  by  the  excellence  of  functions  and  remedies  subsequent, — • 
Nov.  Org.,  Aphorism  xxx.  p.  74. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     113 


SCENE  V. 

Hope  to  Knowledge.  88=cxxvi. 

O  thou,  my  lovely  boy,  who  in  thy  power 
Dost  hold  Time's  fickle  glass,  his  sickle  hour; 
Who  hast  by  waning  grown,1  and  therein  'show'st 
Thy  lovers  withering,  as  thy  sweet  self  grow'st! 
If  Nature,  sovereign  mistress  over  wrack, 
As  thou  goest  onwards,  still  will  pluck  thee  back, 
She  keeps  thee  to  this  purpose,  that  her  skill 
May  Time  disgrace  and  wretched  minutes  kill. 
Yet  fear  her,  O  thou  minion  of  her  pleasure! 
She  may  detain,  but  not  still  keep,  her  treasure: 
Her  audit,  though  delay  'd,  answer'd  must  be, 
And  her  quietus  is  to  render  thee.2 


1  His  "sin"  was  growing  old.      Cp.  note  i,  p.  98. 

2  Knowledge  must  always  continue  to  be  imperfect,  and  therefore  in  its  best 
estate  progressive.  —  Preface  to  Bacon's  Philosophical   Works,  Vol.  1.  p.  121. 

At  the  battle  nearZutphen  [Oct.  2nd,  1586].  "The  young  Earl  of  Essex,  gen- 
eral of  the  horse,  cried  to  his  handful  of  troopers:  —  "Follow  me,  good  fellows, 
for  the  honor  of  England  and  of  England's  Queen!"  As  he  spoke  he  dashed 
upon  the  enemy's  cavalry,  overthrew  the  foremost  man,  horse  and  rider,  shiv- 
ered his  own  spear1  to  splinters,  and  then,  swinging  his  curtel-axe,  rode  merrily 
forward.  His  whole  little  troop,  compact  as  an  arrow-head,  flew  with  an  ir- 
resistible shock  against  the  opposing  columns,  pierced  clean  through  them,  and 
scattered  them  in  all  directions.  At  the  very  first  charge  one  hundred  English 
horsemen  drove  the  Spanish  and  Albanian  cavalry  back  upon  the  musketeers 
and  pikemen.  Wheeling  with  rapidity,  they  retired  bsfore  a  volley  of  musket- 
shot,  by  which  many  horses  and  a  few  riders  were  killed,  and  then  formed  a- 
gain  to  renew  the  attack.  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  on  coming  to  the  field,  having  met 
Sir  William  Pelham,  the  veteran  lord  marshall,  lightly  armed,  had  with  chiv- 
alrous extravagance  thrown  off  his  own  cuishes,  and  now  rode  to  the  battle  with 
no  armour  but  his  cuirass.  At  the  second  charge  his  horse  was  shot  under  him, 
but,  mounting  another,  he  was  seen  everywhere  in  the  thick  of  the  fight,  behav- 
ing himself  with  a  gallantry  which  extorted  admiration  even  from  the  enemy." 
—  History  of  The  Netherlands,  Motley,  Vol.  II,  pp.  50,  51. 
1  Did  not  Kssex  here  gain  the  soubriquet  of  Shaktrsp§are? 


H4  Shake- spe are  England' s  Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  VI.     Enter  NATURE,  THE  GODDESS  HOPE,  FATHER 
TIME  and  THE  GODS  OF  KNOWLEDGE  and  GRACE. 

Nature  to  Knowledge.  89=xv. 

When  I  consider  every  thing  that  grows 
Holds  in  perfection  but  a  little  moment, 
That  this  huge. stage  presenteth  nought  but  shows 
Whereon  the  stars  in  secret  influence  comment:1 
When  I  perceive  that  men  as  plants  increase, 
Cheered  and  check'd  even  by  the  self-same  sky; 
Vaunt  in  their  youthful  sap,  at  height  decrease, 
And  wear  their  brave  state  out  of  memory: 
Then  the  conceit  of  this  inconstant  stay 
Sets  you  most  rich  in  youth  before  my  sight, 
Where  wasteful  Time  debateth  with  Decay, 
To  change  your  day  of  youth  to  sullied  night; 
And  all  in  war  with  Time  for  love  of  you, 
As  he  takes  from  you,  I  engraft  you  new. 

1  A  side  look  at  Father   Time. 

In  1589,  Nash,  in  an  Address  to  the  Gentlemen  Students  of  both  Universities 
prefixed  to  the  Menaphon  of  Greene,  refers  to  a  writer,  of  whom  he  says:  'If 
you  entreat  him  fair  on  a  frosty  morning,1  he  will  afford  you  whole  Hamlets,  I 
should  say,  Handfulls  of  tragical  speeches/  In  1594,  Henslowe,  in  his  J)i(tr\\ 
records  that  the  Play  containing  these  tragical  speeches  was  acted  by  the  ser- 
vants of  the  Lord  Chamberlain  at  Newington  Butts.  In  1596,  Lodge,  in  his 
Wit's  Mtserie,  speaks  of  'the  Ghost  which  cried  so  miserably  at  the  Theater, 
like  an  oyster  wife,  Hamlet  Revenge:'  ....  No  play  could  have  been  better 
known. — 7Jhe  Mystery  of  William  S/i«kespc<tre,  Judge  Webb,  p.  28. 

1  It  is  on  a  frosty  morning  that  Hamlet,  as  we  have  it,  opens  ....  pointing  to  the  'frostie 
morning'  of  the  sarcastic  Nash. — Ibid,  p.  29. 


Loves  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     1 1 5 


SCENE  VI. 

Time  to  Knowledge.     9o=iv. 

Unthrifty  loveliness,  why  dost  thou  spend 

Upon  thyself  thy  beauty's  legacy  ? 

Nature's  bequest  gives  nothing  but  doth  lend, 

And  being  frank  she  lends  to  those  are  free: 

Then,  beauteous  niggard,  why  dost  thou  abuse 

The  bounteous  largess  given  thee  to  give? 

Profitless  usurer,  why  dost  thou  use 

So  great  a  sum  of  sums,  yet  canst  not  live  ? 

For  having  traffic  with  thyself  alone, 

Thou  of  thyself  thy  sweet  self  dost  deceive : 

Then  how,  when  Nature  calls  thee  to  be  gone, ! 

What  acceptable  audit  canst  thou  leave? 

Thy  unus'd  beauty  must  be  tomb'd  with  thee, 
Which,  used,  lives  th'  executor  to  be. 


1  Thou  [7'imc]  ceaseless  lackey  to  Eternity. — Lucrece,  1.  967. 

In  1598  Gabriel  Harvey  writes  "The  younger  sort  take  much  delight  in  Shake- 
speare's I'cnus  and  Adonis:  but  the  Lucrccc  and  his  tragedy  of  Hamlet,  Prince 
of  Doimark,  have  it  in  them  to  please  the  wiser  sort." — Our  English  Homer, 
Thos.  IV.  White,  p.  145. 

In  1602,  Shakespeare  produced1  'Hamlet,'  'that  piece  of  his  which  most  kin- 
dled English  hearts.'  The  story  of  the  Prince  of  Denmark  had  been  popular 
on  the  stage  as  early  as  1589  in  a  lost1  dramatic  version  by  another  writer.1— 
Life  of  Shakespeare,  Sidney  Lee,  p.  221. 

1  Wonderful,  wonderful  and  still  most  wonderful.     Cp.  note  2,  p.  32,  and  notes  p.  130- 


1 1 6  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  III. 
Nature  to  Grace.        QI—XYII. 

Who  will  believe  my  verse  in  time  to  come, 

If  it  were  fill'd  with  your  most  high  deserts? 

Though  yet,  heav'n  knows,  it  is  but  as  a  tomb 

Which  hides  your  life  and  shows  not  half  your  parts. 

If  I  could  write  the  beauty  of  your  eyes 

And  in  fresh  numbers  number  all  your  graces. 

The  age  to  come  would  say  'This  poet  lies; 

Such  heav'nly  touches  ne'er  touch'd  earthly  faces.' 

So  should  my  papers,  yellow'd  with  their  age, 

Be  scorn'd  like  old  men  of  less  truth  than  tongue, l 

And  your  true  rights  be  term'd  a  poet's  rage, 

And  stretched  metre  of  an  antique  song: 

But  were  some  child  of  yours2  alive  that  time, 
You  should  live  twice;  in  it  and  in  my  rhyme. 

1  A  side  look  at  Father  Time. 

2  The  goddess  Beauty,  Act  IV. 

What  ill  divining  Planet  did  presage, 
My  timeless  birth  so  timely  brought  to  light? 
What  fatal  Comet  did  his  wrath  engage, 
To  work  a  harmless  bird  such  worlds  despite, 
Wrapping  my  "days'  bliss  in  black  fable's  night?1 
.No  Planet  nor  no  Comet  did  conspire 
My  downfall,  but  foul  Fortune's  wrathful  ire. 2 

Tlie  Phoenix*  to  A f other  .Ya/ure  in  Loi'c's  J/ar/vr,  p.  31. 

1  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 

In  nothing  art  thou  black  save  in  thy  deeds. 
And  thence  this  slander,  as  I  think,  proceeds. 
The  rha-ni.v^  to  Dccdalus  [Son.  ui-cxxxi.  I. 

2  Most  untymely  spoken  was  that  word, 

That  brought  the  world  in  such  a  woeful  state, 
That  love  and  likeiny  quite  are  overthrowne,  '  •' 

And  in  their  place  are  hate  and  sorrows  tjrowne.  ' 
A  Loyal  Appeal  in  Courtesy,  Essex,  1601. 

:i  The  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  Dismantled  Masque. 

*  The  Masque  and  its  author  to  be  memorialized  by  a  constellation.  Cp.  Sidney's  lines, 
p.  120,  Spenser's  and  Ben  Jonson's  lines,  p.  83,  Drayton's  lines,,  p.  98,  and  Divus  Shake-speare^ 
index. 

B  Cp.  the  1589  Dramatis  Personae  of  Hamlet,  index. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     \  1 7 


SCENE  VI. 

Time  to  Plope.  92=vn. 

Lo,  in  the  orient  when  the  gracious  light 
Lifts  up  his  burning  head,  each  under  eye 
Doth  homage  to  his  new-appearing  sight, 
Serving  with  looks  his  sacred  majesty; 
And  having  climb'd  the  steep-up  heavenly  hill, 
Resembling  strong  youth  in  his  middle  age, 
Yet  mortal  looks  adore  his  beauty  still, 
Attending  on  his  golden  pilgrimage; 
But  when  from  highmost  pitch,  with  weary  car, 
Like  feeble  age,  he  reeleth  from  the  day, 
The  eyes,  'fore  duteous,  now  converted  are 
From  his  low  tract  and  look  another  way:1 
So  thou,  thyself  out-going  in  thy  noon, 
Unlook'd  on  diest,  unless  thou  get  a  son.2 

\_Exeuni, 

1  The  mind  suffers  in  dignity,  when  we  endure  evil  only  by  self-deception 
and  looking-  another  am',  and  not  by  fortitude  and  judgment.     And  therefore 
it  was  an  idle  fiction  of  the  poets  to  make  Hope  the  antidote  of  human  diseases. 
— Med.  Sacra-,  Kacon,  Vol.  II.  part  3,  p.  91. 
~  Ambition, 

Weep  not  my  Phoenix,  though  I  daily  weep, 
Woe  is  the  herald  that  declares  my  tale, 
IVorlliv  Uiou  art  in   I'enus  lap  to  sleepe,  } 
Iran/only  cohered  ivith  god  Cupids  rale,  \  1 
With  which  he  doth  all  mortal  sense  exhale: 
Wash  not  thy  cheeks,  unless  I  sit  by  thee 
To  dry  them  with  my  sighs  immediately. 
The   Turtle  /)<><'<•*  to   The  rha>ni\?  J. ore's  Martyr,  p.   147. 

Arise  old  Homer  and  make  no  excuses, 
Of  a  rare  piece  of  art  must  be  my  song, 
Of  more  then  most*  and  most  of  all  belored,  } 

About  theichich  Venus  sweete  doves  have  hovered,  \  l 
Robert  Chester*  in  /.ore's  Martyr*  p.   13. 

Only  by  dying,  born  the  very  same.1 

Michael  Drayton  to   The  /'Jiti-nix.      [Cp.  p.  98.] 

1  The  Sonnets  of  i6og,  a  Dismantled  Masque. 

2  Cp.  note  2,  p.  84.        a  Cp.  note  3,  p.  84.        *  Cp.  note  4,  P.  100. 


1 1 8  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  IV. 

MUSES  REPRESENTED. 
WISDOM — TIME — BEAUTY — AMBITION — NATURE. 


SCENE  I.     Enter  NATURE,  THE  GODDESS*  BEAUTY  and 
FATHER  TIME. 

Nature  to  Beauty.     93=xvm. 

Shall  I  compare  thee  to  a  summer's  day? 

Thou  art  more  lovely  and  more  temperate: 

Rough  winds  do  shake  the  darling  buds  of  May, 

And  summer's  lease  hath  all  too  short  a  date: 

Sometime  too  hot  the  eye  of  heaven  shines, 

And  often  is  his  gold  complexion  dimm'd; 

And  every  fair  from  fair  sometime  declines, 

By  chance,  or  Nature's2  changing  course  untrimm'd 

But  thy  eternal  summer  shall  not  fade, 

Nor  lose  possession  of  that  fair  thou  ow'st; 

Nor  shall  Death  brag  thou  wand'rest  in  his  shade, 

When  in  eternal  lines  to  time  thou  grow'st: 

So  long  as  men  can  breathe  or  eyes  can  see,  ) 
.     So  long  lives  this,  and  this  gives  life  to  thee.  j  4 

1  The  sex  of  Spiritual  or  Heavenly  Beauty  is  optional  with  the  poets  and  phi- 
losophers.    Ben  Jonson,  than  whom  as  a  classicist  there  is  no  higher  authority, 
designates  the  "Spirit"  as  feminine. 

It  was  for  Beauty  that  the  world  was  made, 
And  where  she  reigns,  Love's  lights  admit  no  shade. 
The  Masque  of  Beauty. 
With  Plato  the  spirit  is  at  times  masculine. 

Every  one,  therefore,  chooses  his  love  out  of  the  objects  of  beauty  according 
to  his  own  taste,  and,  as  if  he  were  a  god  to  him,  he  fashions  and  adorns  him  like 
a  statue,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  reverencing  him  and  celebrating  orgies  in  his 
honour. — The  PJucdrus,  Vol.  I.  p.  329. 

2  In  Love '  s  Martyr,  Nature  speaks  of  herself  as  Nature.      Cp.  p.  22. 

3  Beautv  [in  verse]  and  not    Wisdom-  is  the  object  of  Nature"1  s  adoration, 
hence  the  change  from  the  intellectual  to  the  moral  line.     Cp.  Son.  3-Lxv.  1.  14. 

*  Cp.  note  2,  p.  57. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     119 


SCENE  I. 

Time  to  Nature.         94=cvi. 

When  in  the  chronicle  of  wasted  time 
I  see  descriptions  of  the  fairest  wights, 
And  beauty  making  beautiful  old  rhyme 
In  praise  of  ladies  dead  and  lovely  knights, 
Then,  in  the  blazon  of  sweet  beauty's  best, 
Of  hand,  of  foot,  of  lip,  of  eye,  of  brow, 
I  see  their  antique  pen  would  have  express'd 
E'en -such  a  beauty  as  you  master  now. 
So  all  their  praises  are  but  prophecies 
Of  this  our  time,  all  you  prefiguring; 
And,  for  they  look'd  but  with  divining  eyes, 
They  had  not  still  enough" your  worth  to  sing: 
For  we,  which  now  behold  these  present  days, 
Have  eyes  to  wonder,  but  lack  tongues  to  praise. 


Her  head  I  framed  of  a  heavenly  map, 

Wherein  the  sevenfold  vertues1  were  enclosed, 

When  great  Apollo  slept  within  my  lap, 

And  in  my  bosome  had  his  rest  reposed, 
I  cut  away  his  locks  of  purest  gold, 
And  plac'd  them  on  her  head  of  earthly  mould. 

When  the  least  whistling  wind  begins  to  sing, 
And  gently  blows  her  haire  about  her  necke, 
Like  to  a  chime  of  bells  it  soft  doth  ring, 
And  with  the  pretie  noise  the  wind  doth  checke, 
Able  to  lull  asleepe  a  pensive  hart, 
That  of  the  round  world's  sorrows  bears  a  part. 
Nature  describing  her  Pha'nix*-  to  Jove,  Love"1  s  Martyr,  p. 

1  Cp.  note  2,  p.  37. 

a  The  Sonnets  of  ifxx>,  a  Dismantled  Masque.     Cp.  sub-note  i,  p.  40. 


12O  Shake-speare  England^  Ulysses, 


ACT  IV, 
Beauty  to  Nature.  95=LXXXin. 

I  never  saw  that  you  did  painting'  need, 
And  therefore  to  your  fair  no  painting  set; 
I  found,  or  thought  I  found,  you  did  exceed 
The  barren  tender  of  a  poet's  debt: 
And  therefore  have  I  slept  in  your  report, 
That  you  yourself  being  extant  well  might  show 
How  far  a  modern  quill  doth  come  too  short, 
Speaking  of  worth,  what  worth  in  you  doth  grow. 
This  silence  for  my  sin  you  did  impute,  ] 

Which  shall  be  most  my  glory,  being  dumb; 
For  I  impair  not  beauty  being  mute, 
When  others  would  give  life  and  bring  a  tomb.  I 
There  lives  more  life  in  one  of  your  fair  eyes 
Than  both  your  poets  can  in  praise  devise.  ~ 


1  In  the  preceding  Acts  the  psychological  progenitors  of  Heanly,  i.  e.,  Lo~,'i\ 
A'eason  and  Grace,  have  had  but  little  converse  with  Mother  \a(nre. 
*  Beauty  and   Time. 

Troi/ns  ami  Cressida. — Was  it   Shakespeare's  intention  to  ridicule  Homer? 
Did   he  know  Homer?  ....  Shakespeare's  knowledge  of  Greek  was  defective. 
—  H'illiam  Shakespeare,  A  Critical  Studv,  Gco.  Brandts,  pp.  512,  520. 
When  I  demand  of  Phoenix,1  Stella's'4  state, 
You  say,  forsooth,  you  left  her  well  of  late 

Let  Folke  o'ercharg'd  with  braine  against  me  crie. 

Astrophel  to  Stella   [Sons.  92,  64] ,   Sidney. 
.  .  .  Or,  when  thy  socks  were  on, 
Leave  thee  alone  for  the  comparison.''' 
Of  all  that  insolent  Greece,  or  haughty  Rome 
Sent  forth,  or  since  did  from  their  ashes  come. 

Memorial  I  Vv.sv.s-,  />V;/  /onson,  1623. 

1  The  Phoenix  Masque  ami  its  author,  memorialized  by  a  constellation.  —  See  /Vr '//.«•  Shnk,-- 
sfeare,  index. 

a  There  was  a  woman  whom  Shakespeare  had  known,  quite  ready  to  heroine  his  life-ti«- 
nre,  her  name  was  IStellal  Lady  Rich  ....  We  can  match  Hamlet's  shifting  moods  of  mind 
with  those  of  Essex,  as  revealed  in  letters  to  his  sister,  Lady  Rich.  Sliiikt'sfiftirs's  Sonnets, 
Gerald  .l/uxjuy,  pp.  482,  484. 

3    In  the  Masque  of  Move's  Labor's  Won.     Cp.  sub-notes,  p.  84. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     121 


SCENE  I. 

Nature  to  Beauty.      96=cvn. 

Not  mine  own  fears,  nor  the  prophetic  soul 
Of  the  wide  world  dreaming  on  things  to  come, 
Can  yet  the  lease  of  my  true  love  control, 
Suppos'd  as  forfeit  to  a  confin'd  doom.1 
The  mortal  moon  hath  her  eclipse  endur'd, 
And  the  sad  Augurs2  mock3  their  own  presage;4 
Incertainties  now  crown  themselves  assur'd, 
And  peace  proclaims  olives  of  endless  age. 
Now  with  the  drops  of  this  most  balmy  time 
My  love  looks  fresh,  and  Death  to  me  subscribes, 
Since,  spite  of  him,  I'll  live  in  this  poor  rhyme, 
While  he  insults  o'er  dull  and  speechless  tribes: 
And  thou  in  this  shalt  find  thy  monument, 
When  tyrants'  crests2  and  tombs  of  brass  are  spent. 

\jExeunt. 

1  Cp.  Son.  3-i.xv.  11.  12,  14,  and  note  i,  p.  120. 
~  Time  and  Death. 
:<  Cp.  note  4,  p.  57. 

*  Throughout  the  Masque  the  almost  silent  contempt  which  Mother  Arature 
evinces  for  her  'ceaseless  lackey'  ['J'ime]  is  not  the  least  laughable  thing,  as  if 
her  play  would  not  last. 

Troilus  ami  L'ressida. -  With  what  intention,  and  in  what  spirit,  did  Shak- 
spere  write  this  strange  comedy?    All  the  Greek  heroes  who  fought  against  Troy  are 
pitilessly  exposed  to  ridicule;  Helen  and  Cressida  are  light,  sensual,  and  heart- 
less, for  whose  sake  it  seems  infatuated  folly  to  strike  a  blow;  Troilus  is  an  en- 
thusiastic young  fool;  and  even  Hector,  though  valiant  and  generous,  spends  his 
life  in  a  cause  which  he  knows  to  be  unprofitable,  if  not  evil.     All  this  is  seen 
and  said  by  Thersites,  whose  mind  is  made  up  of  the  scum  of  the  foulness  of  hu- 
man life  .  .  .  .  Ulysses,  the  antithesis  of  Troilus,  is  the  much-experienced  man 
of  the  world,  possessed  of  its  highest  and  broadest  wisdom,  which  yet  always 
remains  ivorldly  wisdom,  and  never  rises  into  the  spiritual  contemplation  of  a 
Prospero. — Shaksperc,  //is  Mind  and  Art,  Doicden,  pp.  vn.,  vin. 
Look  [Homer],  what  thy  memory  can  not  contain 
Commit  to  these  waste  acts,  and  thou  shalt  find 
Those  children  nursed,  deliver'd  from  thy  brain, 
To  take  a  new  acquaintance  of  thy  mind. 
These  offices,  so  oft  as  thou  wilt  look, 
Shall  profit  thee  and  much  enrich  tliy  book. 

ll'illiam  Shake-spcitrc  [Son.  Lxxvn.j. 


122  Shake-speare  England 's    Ulysses, 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE  II.     Enter  THE  GOD  OF  AMBITION. 
Ambition.  97=cxix. 

What  potions  have  I  drunk  of  Siren  tears, 
Distill'd  from  limbecks  foul  as  hell  within, 
Applying  fears  to  hopes,  and  hopes  to  fears, 
Still  losing  when  I  saw  myself  to  win ! 
What  wretched  errors  hath  my  heart  committed, 
Whilst  it  hath  thought  itself  so  blessed  never! 
How  have  mine  eyes  out  of  their  spheres  been  fitted 
In  the  distraction  of  this  madding  fever! 
O  benefit  of  ill!  now  I  find  true 
That  better  is  by  evil  still  made  better; 
And  ruin'd  love,  when  it  is  built  anew, 
Grows  fairer  than  at  first,  more  strong,  far  greater. 
So  I  return  rebuk'd  to  my  content, 
And  gain  by  ill  thrice  more  than  I  have  spent. 

\_Enter  I 


An  upstart  crow,  beautified  with  our  feathers,  that  with  his  'fiber's  heart 
wrapt  in  a  player's  hyde  supposes  he  is  as  well  able  to  bombast  out  a  blank 
verse  as  the  best  of  you.  —  Green's  Groutsicorth  of  Wit,  1592-96. 

Robert  Green' s  Groatszcort/i  of  Wit  refers  to  false  pretence  and  false  pre- 
tence is  the  essence  of  the  fable  of  the  Crow  in  Peacock's  feathers. —  Our  /-.'//- 
glish  Homer,  ll'hite,  p.  176. 

The  rugged  Pyrrhus,  like  the  Ilyrcaniitn  beast, 

Hath  now 

With  heraldry 

horridly  trick'd1 

.    .   .    Fathers,  Mothers,  Daughters,  Sons. 
Hamlet,  n.  2. 

You  have  a  wolf's  heart  in  a  sheep's  garment.  —  Cecil  to  Essex  at  the  trial  of 
Essex,  1601. — Life  of  Ralegh,  Ed-icards,  Vol.  I.  p.  292. 
1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  27. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     123 


SCENE  II. 

Ambition  to  Wisdom.  98=xxix. 

When,  in  disgrace  with  fortune  and  men's  eyes, 
I  all  alone  beweep  my  outcast  -state, 
And  trouble  deaf  heav'n  with  my  bootless  cries, 
And  look  upon  myself  and  curse  my  fate, 
Wishing  me  like  to  one  more  rich  in  hope,  \ 

Featur'd  like  him,  like  him  with  friends  possess'd,     >• * 
Desiring  this  man's  art  and  that  man's  scope, 
With  what  I  most  enjoy  contented  least; 
Yet  in  these  thoughts  myself  almost  despising, 
Haply  I  think  on  thee,  and  then  my  state, 
Like  to  the  lark  at  break  of  day  arising 
From  sullen  earth,  sings  hymns  at  heaven's  gate; 
For  thy  sweet  love  rememb'red  such  wealth  brings 
That  then  I  scorn  to  change  my  state  with  kings. 


1  Envy  being  the  grandmother  of  Ambition,  Bacon's  aphorism  is  pertinent 
here.  "Envy  is  ever  joined  with  the  comparing  of  a  man's  self." — Of  Envy, 
Francis  Bacon. 

Of  Shake-speare's  character  building.      Cp.  note  2,  p.  59. 

Is  it  possible  that  Bacon,  ["the  soaring  angel  and  the  creeping  snake"]  could 
not  read  the  Sonnets?  did  he,  with  open  eyes,  deliberately  walk  into  the  trap 
set  for  him  by  Essex?  Cp.  notes,  pp.  87,  89,  91. 

For  my  name  and  memory,  I  leave  it  to  men's  charitable  speeches,  and  to 
foreign  nations,  and  to  the  next  age. — Francis  Bacon"1  s  Will. 

The  loftiness  of  his  [Essex's]  wit  was  most  quick,  present,  and  incredible, 
in  dissembling  with  counterfeit  friends,  and  in  turning  the  mischiefs  and 
fallacies  of  his  enemies  upon  their  ozcti  heads  and  in  concealing  any  matter 
and  business  of  importance,  beyond  expectation. — Four  Books  of  Offices,  Bar- 
nabe  Barnes,  1606. 


124  Shake-speare  England's    Ulysses, 


ACT  IV. 
Wisdom  to  Ambition.  99=xcv. 

How  sweet  and  lovely  dost  thou  make  the  shame 
Which,  like  a  canker  in  the  fragrant  rose, 
Doth  spot  the  beauty  of  thy  budding  name! 
O,  in  what  sweets  dost  thou  thy  sins  enclose! 
That  tongue  that  tells  the  story  of  thy  days, 
Making  lascivious  comments  on  thy  sport, 
Cannot  dispraise  but  in  a  kind  of  praise; 
Naming  thy  name,  blesses  an  ill  report. 
O,  what  a  mansion  have  those  vices  got, 
Which  for  their  habitation  chose  out  thee, 
Where  beauty's  veil  doth  cover  every  blot, 
And  all  things  turn  to  fair  that  eyes  can  see! 

Take  heed,  dear  heart,  of  this  large  privilege; 

The  hardest  knife  ill-us'd  doth  lose  his  edge. 

I  have  byn  of  late  very  pestilent  reported  in  this  place  [the  court]  to  be  rath- 
er a  drawer  bake  then  a  fartherer  of  the  action  where  you  govern I 

humblie  beseich  you,  lett  no  poclicall  scribe1  work  your  Lordshipe  by  any  device 
to  doubt  that  I  am  a  hollo  or  could  sarvant  to  the  action,  or  a  mean  well-wilier 
and  follower  of  your  own. —Sir  ITaltcr  Raleigh  [at  court]  to  Leicester  [in  the 
Netherlands]  Mar.  2gth,  1586. — Life  of  Ralegh*  Edwards,  Vol.  II.,  p.  33. 

As  captain  of  the  guard,  Raleigh  had  to  stand  at  the  door  with  a  drawn  sword, 
in  his  brown  and  orange  uniform,  while  the  handsome  youth  [Essex]  whispered 
to  the  spinster  Queen  of  fifty-four  things  which  set  her  heart  beating.  He  made 
all  the  mischief  he  could  between  her  and  Raleigh.  —  Shakespeare,  .1  Critical 
Sludv,  Hnuides,  p.  243. 

l''.n I er  SIR  WALTER  MALVOLIO,   [Reads.]      ....  Some  are  born  great,  some 
achieve  greatness,   and  sonic  have  greatness  thrust   upon  them*  ....    Re- 
member who  commended  thy   w/Xozv  stockings,   and  wished   to  see  thee  ever 
cross  gartered:  I  say  remember.      Cp.    ']\celflli  Xighl,  n.  5. 
''hi  I\ttriam  rediit  magnus  Apollo  sna/n. 
But,  ah  for  grief!  that  jolly  groom  is  dead,:! 
For  whom  the  Muses  silver  tears  have  shed; 
Yet  in  this  lovely  swain,  source  of  our  glee. 
Must  all  his  virtues  sweet  reviven  be." 

/Vr/V'.s-  l-'.clogue,  Gratulctiory  to  I'lssex,  1589. 

1  Essex  and  Leicester  landed  at  Flushing,  Dec.  roth,  1585. 

a  Personal  allusions  were-  the  sauce  (if  evcrv  plav.      Shakesteartf t  I'oem 

3  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     125 

SCENE  II. 

Ambition  to  \\~isdom.  IOO=LXXXVII. 

Farewell!  thou  art  too  dear  for  my  possessing, 
And  like  enough  thou  know'st  thy  estimate: 
The  charter  of  thy  worth  gives  thee  releasing ; 
My  bonds  in  thee  are  all  determinate. 
For  how  do  I  hold  thee  but  by  thy  granting? 
And  for  that  riches  where  is  my  deserving  ? 
The  cause  of  this  fair  gift  in  me  is  wanting, 
And  so  my  patent  back  again  is  swerving. 
Thyself  thou  gav'st,  thy  own  worth  then  not  knowing, 
Or  me,  to  whom  thou  gav'st  it,  else  mistaking; 
So  thy  great  gift,  upon  misprison  growing, 
Comes  home  again,  on  better  judgment  making. 
Thus  have  I  had  thee,  as  a  dream  doth  flatter, 
In  sleep  a  king,  but  waking  no  such  matter. 

[Curtain. 


I  acquaynted  the  Lord  Generall  [Essex]  with  your  letter  to  mee,  and  your 
kynd  acceptance  of  your  enterteynement;  hee  was  also  wonderfull  merry  att 
your  consait  of  ' 'Richard  I  he  Second.''  I  hope  it  shall  never  alter,  and  where- 
of I  shall  be  mostgladd  of,  as  the  trew  way  to  all  our  good,  QUIETT  and  advance- 
ment, and  most  of  all  for  Her  sake  whose  affaires  shall  thereby  fynd  better 
progression.  Sir,  I  will  ever  be  your's;  //  is  all  I  can  saye,  and  I  will  psr- 
forme  it  icith  my  life,  and  icith  my  fortune.  —  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  to  Rob- 
ert Cecil,  July  6th,  1597. — Life  of  Ralegh*  fcdicards,  Vol.  II.  p.  169. 

If  Coke  had  the  faintest  idea  that  ths  Player  was  the  author  of  Richard  the 
Second,  he  would  not  have  hesitated  a  momsnt  to  lay  him  by  the  heels.  And 
that  the  Player  was  not  regarded  as  the  author  by  the  Queen  is  provad  by  the 
fact  that,  with  his  company,  he  performed  before  the  Court  at  Richmond,  on 
the  evening  before  the  execution  of  Essex.  —  'Die  Mystery  of  ll'illiam  Shake- 
speare. Judge  ll'cbb,  Baconian,  p.  72. 


126  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE  III.     Enter  THE  GODDESSES  BEAUTY  and  WISDOM. 
Wisdo  m.  i  o  i  =x  L  v  i . 

Mine  eye  and  heart  are  at  a  mortal  war, 

How  to  divide  the  conquest  of  thy  sight; 

Mine  eye,  my  heart  thy  picture's  sight  would  bar, 

My  heart,  mine  eye  the  freedom  of  that  right. 

My  heart  doth  plead  that  thou  in  him  dost  lie, 

A  closet  never  pierc'd  with  crystal  eyes— 

But  the  defendant  doth  that  plea  deny, 

And  says  in  him  thy  fair  appearance  lies. 

To  'side  this  title  is  impanelled 

A  quest  of  thoughts,  all  tenants  to  the  heart, 

And  by  their  verdict  is  determined 

The  clear  eye's  moiety  and  the  dear  heart's  part: 
As  thus;  mine  eye's  due  is  thy  outward  part, 
And  my  heart's  right  thy  inward  love  of  heart. 

1  Sight  is  the  keenest  of  our  bodily  senses,  though  Wisdom  is  not  seen  by  it. 
For  vehement  would  be  the  love  she  would  inspire,  if  she  came  before  our  sight 
and  shewed  us  any  such  clear  image  of  herself.  —  The  rhicdrus,  Plato,  Vol.  1. 
p.  327,  [Bohn's  Libraries] . 

Forehead.     Her  forehead  is  a  place  for  princely  Jove 

To  sit,  and  censure  matters  of  import: 

Wherein  men  reade  the  sweete  conceipts  of  love, 

To  which  heart-pained  lovers  do  resort, 

And  in  this  Tablet1  find  to  cure  the  wound, 
For  which  no  salve  or  herbe  was  ever  found.2 
Ajvr.v.      Under  this  mirror,  are  her  princely  eyes: 

Two  Carbuncles,  two  rich  imperial  lights; 

That  ore  the  day  and  night  do  soveraignize, 

And  their  dimme  tapers  to  their  rest  she  frights: 
Her  eyes  excell  the  Moone  and  glorious  Sonne, 
And  when  she  riseth  al  their  force  is  done. 

Nature  describing  her  FhcenioP  to  Jove,  Love's  Martyr,  p.  10. 

1  And  him4  as  for  a  Map  doth  Nature  store, 
To  show  false  Art  what  beauty  was  of  yore. 

Son.   I42-LXVIII. 

2  Cp.  termination  of  the  sensual  line  of  the  Dramatis  Personse,  p.  24. 

3  The  Masque  is  Nature's  own  drama.     Cp.  note  4,  p.  57. 

*  Daedalus,  the  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     127 


SCENE  III. 

Beauty.  iO2=xxiv. 

Mine  eye  hath  play'd  the  painter  and  hath  stell'd 
Thy  beauty's  form  in  table  of  my  heart;1 
My  body  is  the  frame  wherein  'tis  held, 
And  perspective  it  is  best  painter's  art. 
For  through  the  painter  must  you  see  his  skill, 
To  find  where  your  true  image  pictur'd  lies, 
Which  in  my  bosom's  shop  is  hanging  still, 
That  hath  his  windows  glazed  with  thine  eyes. 
Now  see  what  good-turns  eyes  for  eyes  have  done: 
Mine  eyes  have  drawn  thy  shape,  and  thine  for  me 
Are  windows  to  my  breast,  where-through  the  sun 
Delights  to  peep,  to  gaze  therein  on  thee; 

Yet  eyes  this  cunning  want  to  grace  their  art; 

They  draw  but  what  they  see,  know  not  the  heart.2 


1  Cp.  note  2,  p.  56. 

2  Beauty  is  the  most  lovely  of  all   things,  exciting  hilarity,  and  shedding  de- 
sire and  confidence  through  the  universe,  wherever  it  enters;  and  it  enters,   in 
some  degree,  into  all  things:  but  there  is  another,  which  is  as  much  more  beau- 
tiful than  beauty,  as  beauty  is  than  chaos;  namely,  Wisdom,  which  our  won- 
derful organ  of  sight  cannot  reach  unto,  but  which,  could  it  be  seen,  would  rav- 
ish us  with  its  perfect  reality. — Plato:  or,    The  PJiilosopJier,  Emerson,  Vol. 
II.  p.  59. 

Though  Bacon  never  mentions  the  name  of  Shakespeare,  he  does  refer  to  one 
of  his  plays,  thus  in  his  charge  against  Mr.  Oliver  St.  John  we  have  "and,  for 
your  comparison  with  Richard  II.,  I  see  you  follow  the  example  of  them,  that 
brought  him  upon  the  stage  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time," — Our  English  Homer 
TJios.  IV.  White,  p.  136. 


128  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

ACT  IV. 

Wisdom  to  Beauty.  103— =XLVII. 

Betwixt  mine  eye  and  heart  a  league  is  took, 
And  each  doth  good  turns  now  unto  the  other,' 
When  that  mine  eye  is  famish'd  for  a  look, 
Or  heart  in  love  with  sighs  himself  doth  smother, 
With  my  love's  picture  then  my  eye  doth  feast 
And  to  the  painted  banquet  bids  my  heart; 
Another  time  mine  eye  is  my  heart's  guest 
And  in  his  thoughts  of  love  doth  share  a  part: 
So,  either  by  thy  picture  or  my  love, 
Thyself  away  art  present  still  with  me; 
For  thou  not  farther  than  my  thoughts  canst  move, 
And  I  am  still  with  them  and  they  with  thee; 
Or,  if  they  sleep,  thy  picture  in  my  sight 
Awakes  my  heart  to  heart's  and  eye's  delight. 

\_Entcr  .  I  in  bit  i  on. 


"What  will  predispose  the  reader  to  believe  the  worst  of  Cecil,  is  a  confiden- 
tial letter  written  by  him  to  his  intimate  friend  Carew,  in  which  he  suggests  to 
the  latter  an  act  of  treachery  that  can  be  characterized  by  no  other  epithet  than 
diabolical.  It  appears  that  a  certain  young  Earl  of  Desmond,  who  had  been 
sent  over  from  Kngland  to  Ireland,  seemed  likely  to  prove  a  costly  and  incon- 
venient encumbrance,  instead  of  enabling  the  English  to  conciliate  or  suppress 
the  Irish.  Cecil  therefore  suggests  to  Carew  that  it  may  be  possible  to  decoy 
the  young  nobleman  into  some  act  of  treason,  and  then  to  make  away  with  him. 

"SIR, — It  shall  be  an  easy  matter  for  you  to  colour  whatsoever  you  shall  do 
in  that  kind  by  this  course.  You  may  either  apostate  \_sic\  some  to  seek  to  with- 
draw him  zi'/io  may  be  fray  him  to  you,  or,  rather  than  fail,  there  may  be  some 
found  out  /here  to  accuse  him.  and  that  may  be  sufficient  reason  for  vou  to 
remand  him.  or  to  restrain  him,  under  colour  of  ichich  tliev  [the  Irish]  icill 
be  more  greedy  peradi'enlure  to  labour  for  him — but  all  that  is  here  said  is 
mine  own  and  known  to  no  soul  living  but  the  writer  whose  hand  I  us^  at  this 
present,  in  regard  of  a  fluxion  in  one  of  mine  eyes." 

If  this  is  Cecil,  it  may  be  thought  Essex  might  well  have  felt  his  life  endan- 
gered by  such  an  enemy  always  at  the  Queen's  ear." — Hucon  and  Essex. 
Abbott,  p.  245, 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     129 


SCENE  III. 

io4=cxvi. 

Ambition  to  Beauty  and  Wisdom. 

Let  me  not  to  the  marriage  of  true  minds 

Admit  impediments.      Love  is  not  love 

Which  alters  when  it  alteration  finds, 

Or  bends  with  the  remover  to  remove:1 

O,  no!  it  is  an  ever-fixed  mark 

That  looks  on  tempests  and  is  never  shaken; 

It  is  the  star  to  every  wand'ring  bark, 

Whose  worth's  unknown,  although  his  height  be  taken. 

Love's  not  Time's  fool,  though  rosy  lips  and  cheeks 

Within  his  bending  sickle's  compass  come; 

Love  alters  not  with  his  brief  hours  and  weeks, 

But  bears  it  out  even  to  the  edge  of  doom. 

If  this  be  error  and  upon  me  prov'd, 

I  never  writ,  nor  no  man  ever  lov'd. 

\_Exit  Ambition. 

1  This  Sonnet  admirably  follows  Son.  i-xxv.  but  by  so  placing  precipitates 
the  humor  of  the  play  and  leaves  the  present  Scene  devoid  of  action. 

A.s-.sv.v  at  I  he  (tffc  of  .Vine. — He  can  express  his  mind  in  Latin  and  French, 
as  well  as  in  English,  very  courteous  and  modest,  rather  disposed  to  hear  than 
to  answer,  given  greatly  to  learning,  weak  and  tender,  but  very  comely  and 
bashful.  I  think  your  L.  will  as  well  like  of  him  as  of  any  that  ever  came  with- 
in your  charge.  —  IValcrhouse  to  Burghley,  Nov.  iSth,  1576. — Lives  of  J'he 
Ear  Is  of  Essex,  Vol.  I.  p.  166. 

Coxeter  according  to  Warton,  says,  that  he  had  seen  one  of  Ovid's  Epistles 
translated  by  Essex. — Bibliog.  Foetica,  Alison,  p.  187. 

The  elegant  perspicuity,  the  conciseness,  the  quick  strong  reasonings  and  the 
engaging  good  breeding  of  his  letters,  carry  great  marks  of  genius. — /\'.  and 
A7.  Authors,  Horace  IValpolc,  1759,  Vol.  I.  p.  94. 

Essex's  letters,  whether  in  Latin  or  English,  short  or  long,  of  an  earlier  or 
later  date,  public  or  private,  partake  uniformly  of  the  same  clearness  and  ele- 
gance of  manner.  —  Original  Letters  [Second  Series],  Ellis,  Vol.  III. 


130 


Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  IV. 

Wisdom  to  Beauty.   io5=LXxxvi. 

Was  it  the  proud  full  sail  of  his1  great  verse, 
Bound  for  the  prize  of  all  too  precious  you, 
That  did  my  ripe  thoughts  in  my  brain  inhearse, 
Making  their  tomb  the  womb  wherein  they  grew  ? 
Was  it  his  spirit, 2  by  spirits  taught  to  write3 
Above  a  mortal  pitch,  that  struck  me  dead? 
No,  neither  he,  nor  his  compeers  by  night 
Giving  him  aid,  my  verse  astonished. 
He,  nor  that  affable  familiar  ghost 
Which  nightly  gulls  him  with  intelligence,4 
As  victors  of  my  silence  cannot  boast;         » 
I  was  not  sick  of  any  fear  from  thence: 

But  when  your  countenance  fill'd  up  his  line, 
Then  lack'd  I  matter;  that  enfeebled  mine. 

1  Ambition'1  s. 

2  Hope,  Act  III.     Cp.  note  2,  p.  57. 
:i  I^nvy,  Act  II.  and  Desire,  Act  I. 

4  Hope,  Act  III.  It  is  noteworthy  that  ll'isdom  has  the  same  contempt  for 
Hope  as  had  her  father,  Knozvledge.  Cp.  Son.  58-1^x1 . 

If  compelled  to  select  one  of  Shakespeare's  Contemporaries  for  the  Rival 
Poet,  I  should  select  Drayton. — Shakespeare's  I'OCMS,  ll'yudliam,  p.  25$. 

Barnabe  Barnes  probably  the  rival,  ....  The  emphasis  laid  by  Barnes  on 
the  inspiration  that  he  soughtfrom  Southampton's  "gracious  eyes"  on  the  one 
hand,  and  his  reiterated  references  to  his  patron's  "virtue"  on  the  other,  suggest. 
that  Shakespeare  in  these  Sonnets  directly  alluded  to  Barnes  as  his  chief  com- 
petitor in  the  hotly  contested  race  for  Southampton's  favours.  —  Life  of  Shake- 
speare, Sidney  Lee,  p.  133.  Cp.  sub-note  i,  p.  115. 

To  THE  EARLE  OF  ESSEX,  EARLE  MARSHELL,*  ETC. 
Great  Strong-Bowe's  heir,a  no  Self-Conceit  doth  cause 
Mine  humble  wings  aspire  to  you,  unknowne: 
But  knowing  this,  that  your  renown  alone 
[As  th'  adamant,  and  as  the  amber  drawes: 
That,  hardest  steel:  this,  easie  yielding  straws] 
Alters  the  stubborn,  and  attracts  the  prone: 
I  have  presum'd  [O  honor's  Paragon!] 
To  grave  your  name  [which  all  Iberia  awes] .. 

1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  137. 

2  Cp.  Penelope's  Challenge,  p.  19. 


Love  $  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     131 


SCENE  III. 

Beauty  to  Wisdom.  io6==LXXXii. 

I  grant  thou  wert  not  married  to  mv  Muse, 
And  therefore  may'st  without  attaint  o'erlook 
The  dedicated  words  which  writers  use 
Of  their  fair  subject,  blessing  every  book. 
Thou  art  as  fair  in  knowledge  as  in  hue, 
Finding  thy  worth  a  limit  past  my  praise, 
And  therefore  art  enforc'd  to  seek  anew 
Some  fresher  stamp  of  the  time-bett'ring  days. 
And  do  so,  love;  yet  when  they  have  devis'd 
What  strained  touches  rhetoric  can  lend, 
Thou  truly  fair  wert  truly  sympathiz'd 
In  true  plain  words  by  thy  true-telling  friend; 
And  their  gross  painting  might  be  better  used 
Where  cheeks  need  blood;  in  thee  it  is  abused. 


Here  on  the  fore-front  of  this  little  pile; 

T'  invite  the  vertuous  to  a  sacred  feast, 

And  chase  away  the  vicious  and  the  vile, 

Or  stop  their  lothsome  envious  tongues,  at  least. 

If  I  have  err'd,  let  my  submission  scuse: 

And  daign  to  grace  my  yet  ungraced  muse. 
Joshua  Sylvester.      [Cp.  Bryd^es'  Rcstituta,  Vol.  II.  p.  415.] 

1  This  opens  another  passage  based  on  Shakespeare's  knowledge  of  heraldry 
....  Imprese,  a  term  of  heraldic  science  ....  whenever  Shakespeare  in  an 
age  of  technical  conceits,  indulges  in  one  ostentatiously,  it  will  always  be  found 
that  his  apparent  obscurity  arises  from  our  not  crediting  him  with  a  technical 
knowledge  which  he  undoubtedly  possessed,  be  it  of  heraldry,^  of  law,  or  of 
philosophic  disputation.  —  Shakespeare1  s  Poems,  IVyndham,  pp.  226-29. 

In  1597  the  Earl  of  Essex  had  become  Earl  Marshal  and  chief  of  the  Her- 
ald's College.  —  Life  of  Shakespeare,  Sidney  Lee,  p.  190. 

Essex  was  great  at  impreses.2—  y^/sow's  Conv.  zvith  Drummond,  p.  30. 

Essex  was  gallant,  romantic  and  ostentatious,  his  shooting-matches  in  the  eye 
of  the  city  gained  him  great  popularity  and  the  people  never  ceased  to  adore 
him.  His  genius  for  shows  and  those  pleasures  that  carry  an  image  of  war  was 
as  remarkable  as  his  spirit  in  the  profession  itself.  His  impreses  and  inven- 
tions of  entertainment  were  much  admired.  —  R.  and  N.  Authors,  Walpolc. 

1  The  Enacted  Will,  or  The  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won,  is  based  on  heraldry.     Cp, 
notes,  p.  27. 

2  Cp.  William  Shakspere,  Poet  or  Peacock,  index, 


132  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses^ 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE  IV.     Enter  THE  GODDESS  BEAUTY. 
Beauty.  107 — CXLYIII. 

O  me!  what  eyes  hath  Love  put  in  my  head. 
Which  have  no  correspondence  with  true  sight! 
Or,  if  they  have,  where  is  my  judgment  fled. 
That  censures  falsely  what  they  see  aright  ? 
If  that  be  fair  whereon  m\~  false  eyes  dote, 
What  means  the  world  to  say  it  is  not  so?    f 
If  it  be  not,  then  love  doth  well  denote 
Love's  eye  is  not  so  true  as  all  men's:  no. 
How  can  it?     O,  how  can  Love's  eye  be  true. 
That  is  so  vex'd  with  watching  and  with  tears  ? 
No  marvel  then,  though  I  mistake  my  vie 
The  sun  itself  sees  not  till  heaven  clears. 

O  cunning  Love!  with  tears  thou  keep  st  me  blind. 

Lest  eyes  well-seeing  thy  foul  faults  should  find. 

\^Enter  Ambition. 

1  Ambition.     Cp.  note  2,  p.  57. 

To  THE  EARL  OF  ESSEX. 
Magnificke  lord,  whose  virtues  excellent 
Do  merit  a  most  famous  poets  wit 
To  be  thy  living  praises  instrument: 
Yet  do  not  deign  to  let  thy  name  be  writ 
In  this  base  poem,  for  thee  far  unfit: 
Nought  is  thy  worth  disparaged  thereby. 
But  when  my  Muse,  whose  feathers,  nothing  flit. 
Do  yet  but  flag  and  lowly  learn  to  fly. 
With  bolder  wing  shall  dare  aloft  to"  sty 
To  the  last  praises  of  this  Faery  Queen': 
Then  shall  it  make  most  famous  memory 
Of  thine  HEROICKE  parts,  such  as  they  been: 
Till  then,  vouchsafe  thy  noble  countenance 
To  their  first  labors  needed  furtherance. 

T*e  Fairy  Quten,  Sfr*srrr  1590, 

And  there,  though  last  not  least  is  Action: 

A  gender  shepheard  may  no  where  be  found. 

Whose  muse,  full  of  high  thought's  invention. 

Doth,  like  himself.  HEROICALLY  sound. 
Cotim  Clouts.  Sftnser,  1595. 


Loves  Labors  Won;  Or,   The  Enacted  Will.     133 


SCENE  IV. 

Ambition  to  Beauty.    108 — LXXVIII. 

So  oft  have  I  invok'd  thee  for  my  Muse, 
And  found  such  fair  assistance  in  my  verse. 
As  even*  alien  pen  hath  got  my  use. 
And  under  thee  their  poesy  disperse. 
Thine  eyes,  that  taught  the  dumb  on  high  to  sing. 
And  heavy  ignorance  aloft  to  fly. 
Have  added  feathers  to  the  learned's  wing. 
And  given  grace  a  double  majesty. 
Yet  be  most  proud  of  that  which  I  compile. 
Whose  influence  is  thine,  and  born  of  thee: 
In  others'  works  thou  dost  but  mend  the  style. 
And  arts  with  thy  sweet  graces  graced  be; 
But  thou  art  all  my  art,  and  dost  advance 
As  high  as  learning  my  rude  ignorance. 

If  music  and  sweet  poetry  agree, 
As  they  must  needs,  the  sister  and  die  brother. 
Then  must  the  love  be  great  "twist  thee  and  me. 
Because  thou  lorest  the  one,  and  I  the  other. 
Dowland  to  thee  is  dear,  whose  heavenly 
Upon  the  lute  doth  ravish  human  sense: 
Spenser  to  me.  whose  deep  conceit  is  such 
As.  passing  all  conceit,  needs  no  defence.1 
Thou  knrest  to  hear  the  sweet  melodious  st 
That  Phcebus   rate,  the  queen  of  music,  makes; 
And  I  in  deep  delight  am  chiefly  drown'd 
When  as  himself  to  singing  he  betakes. 
One  god  Is  god  of  both,  as  poets  feign; 
One  knight  loves  both,  and  both  in  thee  remain. 

Attributed  to  Shakspere  in  Fkisiomalf  Pilgrim^  1599. 

Shakespeare  acknowledged  acquaintance  with  Spenser's  work  in  a  plain  ref- 
erence to   his  Teares  of   die  Muses"   [1591]  in  'Midsummer  Nights   Dream." 
1L  52,53]- 

"The  thrice  three  Muses,  mourning  for  die  death 

Of  learning,  late  deceased  in  beggary, 

is  stated  to  be  the  theme  of  one  of  the  dramatic  entertainments  •  ncrem  illt  it  is 
proposed  to  celebrate  Theseus  s 
y    - 

-  vf.     -    .-:-.  :e  ;     .     :. 


Shake- sp  ear e  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  IV. 

Beauty  to  Ambition.  io9=Liv. 

O,  how  much  more  doth  beauty  beauteous  seem 
By  that  sweet  ornament  which  truth  doth  give! 
The  rose  looks  fair,  but  fairer  we  it  deem 
For  that  sweet  odour  which  doth  in  it  live. 
The  canker-blooms  have  full  as  deep  a  dye 
As  the  perfum'd  tincture  of  the  roses, 
Hang  on  such  thorns,  and  play  as  wantonly 
When  summer's  breath  their  masked  buds  discloses: 
But,  for  their  virtue  only  is  their  show. 
They  live  unwoo'd  and  unrespected  fade, 
Die  to  themselves.      Sweet  roses  do  not  so; 
Of  their  sweet  deaths  are  sweetest  odours  made: 
And  so  of  you,  beauteous  and  lovely  youth, 
When  that  shall  vade,  my  verse  distills  your  truth. 


Of  this  nobleman  [Essex]  [says  Wordsworth]  the  following  anecdote  is 
told.  When  the  Bishops  that  felt  the  smart  of  it  had  cried  out  against  that 
slashing  pamphlet,  called  Martin — Mar — Prelate,1  and  there  was  a  prohibition 
published,  that  no  man  should  presume  to  carry  it  about  him,  upon  pain  of  pun- 
ishment; and  the  Queen  herself  did  speak  as  much  when  the  Earl  was  present: 
"Why  then"  said  the  Earl,  "what  will  become  of  me"  and  pulling  the  book  out 
of  his  pocket,  he  did  shew  it  unto  the  Queen. — Brydgcs'  Restituta,  Vol.  I.  p. 
196. 

Essex  was  something  of  a  poet:  he  possessed  the  kindling  poetic  temperament 
and  was  fond  of  making  verses;  a  lover  of  literature,  and  the  friend  of  poets. 
It  was  he  who  sought  out  Spenser  when  in  great  distress  and  relieved  him, 
and,  when  that  poet  died,  Essex  buried  him  in  Westminster  Abbey.  Being, 
as  he  was,  so  near  a  friend  of  Southampton,  it  could  scarcely  be  otherwise  than 
that  he  should  have  been  a  personal  friend  of  Shakspere.  //  is  highly  prob- 
able that  some  of  the  Poet" 's  dramas  n-ere  first  performed  at  I\sse\  J/ouse. 
— Shakespeare1  s  Sonnets,  Afassey,  p.  462. 

1  The  pamphlets  were  published  1588-1500 — It  was  an  age  of  vapid  punning  hence  the  name 
suggests  the  fatherhood  of  Henry  Willobie;  i.  e.,  Henry=henery=feathers;  Hamlet's  "forest 
of  feathers."  Willobie  =The  Will-to-be.  Cp.  notes,  pp.  25  and  73. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     135 

SCENE  IV. 

Ambition  to  Beauty,     i  io=xcvin.      1 1  i=xcix. 

From  you  have  I  been  absent  in  the  spring, 

When  proud-pied  April,  dress'd  in  all  his  trim, 

Hath  put  a  spirit  of  youth  in  every  thing, 

That  heavy  Saturn  laugh 'd  and  leap'd  with  him. 

Yet  nor  the  lays  of  birds  nor  the  sweet  smell 

Of  different  flowers  in  odour  and  in  hue 

Could  make  me  any  summer's  story  tell, 

Or  from  their  proud  lap  pluck  them  where  they  grew; 

Nor  did  I  wonder  at  the  lily's  white, 

Nor  praise  the  deep  vermillion  in  the  rose: 

They  were  but  sweet,  but  figures  of  delight, 

Drawn  after  you,  you  pattern  of  all  those. 

Yet  seem'd  it  winter  still,  and,  you  away, 

As  with  your  shadow  I  with  these  did  play. 

The  forward  violet  thus  did  I  chide:  [smells, 

Sweet  thief,  whence  didst  thou  steal  thy  sweet  that 

If  not  from  my  love's  breath?     The  purple  pride 

Which  on  thy  soft  cheek  for  complexion  dwells 

In  my  love's  veins  thou  hast  too  grossly  dyed. 

The  lily  I  condemned  for  thy  hand, 

And  buds  of  marjoram  had  stol'n  thy  hair; 

The  roses  fearfully  on  thorns  did  stand, 

One  blushing  shame,  another  white  despair; 

A  third,  nor  red,  nor  white,  had  stol'n  of  both, 

And  to  his  robb'ry  had  annex'd  thy  breath; 

But,  for  his  theft,  in  pride  of  all  his  growth 

A  vengeful  canker  eat  him  up  to  death. 

More  flowers  I  noted,  yet  I  none  could  see 
But  sweet  or  colour  it  had  stol'n  from  thee. 


Shakespeare  wrote  no  commendatory  verses  whatsoever,  the  only  one  who  is 
praised  by  Shakespeare,  and  on  one  occasion  only,  is  Spenser,  who  is  referred 
to  in  one  of  the  Sonnets  of  the  Pasionate  Pilgrim.  —  William  Shakespeare, 
.A'ari  Elze,  p.  427. 


136  Skake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  IV. 

Beauty  to  Ambition.   \  1 2==cn. 

My  love  is  strengthen'd,  though  more  weak  in  seeming; 
I  love  not  less,  though  less  the  show  appear: 
That  love  is  merchandiz'd  whose  rich  esteeming 
The  owner's  tongue  doth  publish  every  where. 
Our  love  was  new,  and  then  but  in  the  spring, 
When  I  was  wont  to  greet  it  with  my  lays, 1 
As  Philomel  in  summer's  front  doth  sing, 
And  stops  his  pipe  in  growth  of  riper  days:* 
Not  that  the  summer  is  less  pleasant  now 
Than  when  her  mournful  hymns  did  hush  the  night, 
But  that  wild  music  burthens  every  bough 
And  sweets  grown  common  lose  their  dear  delight. 
Therefore,  like  her,  I  sometime  hold  my  tongue, 
Because  I  would  not  dull  you  with  my  song. 

1  As  Love  to  Desire,  Act  I.  and  Reason  to  Envy,  Act  II. 

2  In  Act  III.  Grace  is  not  specially  concerned  with  Hope. 

Having,  in  the  Karl's  [Kssex's]  precipitate  fortune,  curiously  observed.  First, 
how  long  that  nobleman's  birth,  worth  and  favour  had  been  flattered,  tempted, 
and  stung  by  a  swarm  of  sect-animals,  whose  property  was  to  wound  and  fly 
away;  and  so,  by  a  continual  affliction  probably  enforce  great  hearts  to  turn  and 
tosse  for  ease;  and  in  those  passive  postures,  perchance  to  tumble  sometimes  up- 
on I lieir  S&vcraigne'  s  circles}-  Into  which  pitfall  of  theirs,2  when  they  had  once 
discerned  this  Earle  to  be  fallen:  straight,  under  the  reverend  stile  of  Laesae 
Alajestatis  all  inferiour  ministers  of  Justice — they  knew— would  be  justly  let 
loose  to  work  upon  him.  And  accordingly  under  the  same  cloud,  his  enemies 
took  audacity  to  cast  libels  abroad  in  his  name  against  the  State,  made  by  them- 
selves: set  papers  upon  posts,  to  bring  his  innocent  friends  in  question.  His 
power  by  the  jesuiticall  craft  of  rumour,  they  made  infinite;  and  his  ambition 
more  than  equal  to  it.  His  letters  to  private  men  were  read  openly,  by  the 
piercing  eyes  of  an  atturnie's  office,  which  warrantes  the  construction  of  every 
line  in  the  worst  sense  against  the  writer.  —  GreviHe' s  Life  of  Sidney  [Dr.  Gro- 
sart,  Ed.],  Vol.  IV.  pp.  156,  157. 

1  Cp.  the  1589  Dramatis  Persona?  of  Hamlet,  index. 

2  Cp.  Raleigh's  letter  to  Robert  Cecil,  p.  125. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     137 


SCENE  IV. 

Awbition  to  Beauty.     1 13— xxvu.      i  i4=xxvui. 

Weary  with  toil,  I  haste  me  to  my  bed, 
The  dear  repose  for  limbs  with  travel  tired; 
But  then  begins  a  journey  in  my  head, 
To  work  my  mind,  when  body's  work's  expired; 
For  then  my  thoughts,  from  far  where  I  abide, 
Intend  a  zealous  pilgrimage  to  thee, 
And  keep  my  drooping  eyelids  open  wide, 
Looking  on  darkness  which  the  blind  do  see: 
Save  that  my  soul's  imaginary  sight 
Presents  thy  shadow  to  my  sightless  view, 
Which,  like  a  jewel,  hung  in  ghastly  night, 
Makes  black  night  beauteous  and  her  old  face  new. 
Lo!  thus,  by  day  my  limbs,  by  night  my  mind, 
For  thee,  and  for  myself,  no  quiet  find. 
How  can  I  then  return  in  happy  plight, 
That  am  debarr'd  the  benefit  of  rest? 
When  day's  oppression  is  not  eas'd  by  night, 
But  day  by  night,  and  night  by  day,  oppress'd?  J 
And  each,  though  enemies  to  either's  reign, 
Do  in  consent  shake  hands  to  torture  me, 
The  one  by  toil,  the  other  to  complain 
How  far  I  toil,  still  farther  off  from  thee. 
I  tell  the  day,  to  please  him  thou  art  bright, 
And  dost  him  grace  when  clouds  do  blot  the  heaven: 
So  flatter  I  the  swart-complexion'd  night, 
When  sparkling  stars  twire  not  thou  gild'st  the  even. 
But  day  doth  daily  draw  my  sorrows  longer, 
And  night  doth  nightly  make  grief's  length  seem 
stronger. 

[Enter  Wisdom. 

1  Ambition  has  not  lost  the  characteristics  of  his  grandmother,  Envy,  and 
Bacon's  precept  is  applicable.  "Envy  keeps  no  holidays." — Of  Envy,  Futncis 
Bacon. 


138  Shake-speare  England 's    Ulysses, 


ACT  IV. 

Wisdom  to  Ambition.  \  1 5=XLi. 

Those  pretty  wrongs  that  liberty  commits, 
When  I  am  sometime  absent  from  thy  heart, 
Thy  beauty  and  thy  years  full  well  befits, 
For  still  temptation  follows  where  thou  art. 
Gentle  thou  art,  and  therefore  to  be  won,  * 
Beauteous  thou  art,  therefore  to  be  assail'd; 
And  when  a  woman  woos, 2  what  woman's  son, 3 
Will  sourly  leave  her  till  he  have  prevail'd? 
Ah  me!  but  yet  thou  mightst  my  seat  forbear, 
And  chide  thy  beauty  and  thy  straying  youth, 
Who  lead  thee  in  their  riot  even  there 
Where  thou  art  forc'd  to  break  a  twofold  truth;4 
Hers,  by  thy  beauty  tempting  her2  to  thee,5 
Thine,  by  thy  beauty  being  false  to  me. 

1  Tongue-tied  ambition,  not  replying,  yielded. — Richard  ///.,  in.  7. 

2  Beauty.     Cp.  Son.  iia-cn. 

3  Ambition,  son  of  the  goddess  Hope. 

*  With  the  Pythagoreans  fzvo  involved  otherness  and  was  the  number  of 
opinion  "because  of  its  diversity." 

5 Such  an  act 

That  blurs  the  grace  and  blush  of  modesty. 
Hamlet  in.  4,  1.  41. 

What  sage  has  he  not  outseen?  What  king  has  he  not  taught  state?  What 
gentleman  has  he  not  instructed  in  the  rudeness  of  his  behavior?  What  lover 
has  he  not  outloved?  What  maiden  has  not  found  him  finer  than  her  delicacy? 
— Emerson,  Vol.  II.  p.  168. 

The  most  remarkable  feature  in  the  [first  quarto  of  Hamlet]  1603  edition  is 
a  scene  between  Horatio  and  the  Queen  in  which  he  tells  her  of  the  King's 
frustrated  scheme  for  having  Hamlet  murdered  in  Kngland.  The  object  of 
this  scene  is  to  absolve  the  Queen1  from  complicity  in  the  King's  crime;  a  pur- 
pose which  can  also  be  traced  in  other  passages  of  this  first  edition. — Shake- 
speare, A  Critical  Study,  Geo.  Brandes,  p.  345. 

1  The  chances  are  that  Hamlet  was  never  printed  prior  to  Mar.  24th.  1603.  for  reasons  com- 
pare the  conjectural  1589  Dramatis  fersotHe  of  Hamlet,  index,  and  Raleigh's  letter  to  Robert 
Cecil,  p.  125,  and  Cecil's  letter  to  Carew,  p.  128. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  IVilL     139 


SCENE  IV. 

Ambition  to  Beauty,  i  i6=LXXi. 

No  longer  mourn  for  me  when  I  am  dead, 

Than  you  shall  hear  the  surly  sullen  bell 

Give  warning  to  the  world  that  I  am  fled 

From  this  vile  world,  with  vilest  worms  to  dwell:1 

Nay,  if  you  read  this  line,  remember  not 

The  hand  that  writ  it;  for  I  love  you  so, 

That  I  in  your  sweet  thoughts  would  be  forgot, 

If  thinking  on  me  then  should  make  you  woe. 

O,  if,  I  say,  you  look  upon  this  verse, 

When  I,  perhaps,  compounded  am  with  clay, 

Do  not  so  much  as  my  poor  name  rehearse; 

But  let  your  love  e'en  with  my  life  decay: 

Lest  the  wise  world  should  look  into  your  moan, 
And  mock  you  with  me  after  I  am  gone. 


1  Ambition  has  not  lost  the  characteristics  of  his  great-grandfather,  Desire. 
Cp.  Son.  ly-Lxxiv.,  1.  10. 

Shakespeare's  "deposition  scene"  in  Richard  the  Second  was  never  -printed, 
so  long  as  Queen  Elizabeth  lived.  It  appeared  first,  in  print,  in  the  edition  of 
1608  .  .  .  What  passage  or  incident  in  the  play  can,  at  that  date  [1597],  have 
turned  Cecil's  thoughts  towards  the  Earl  of  Essex?  and  finally,  to  what  perform- 
ance was  it  that  the  Queen  herself  alluded,  when,  in  her  curious  conversation 
about  the  Pandects  of  the  Records,  with  William  Lambarde,  on  the  4th  of  Au- 
gust, 1601,  she  suddenly  startled  him,  by  exclaiming — "I  am  Richard  the  Sec- 
ond, know  you  not  that!"  and  was  answered:  "Such  a  wicked  imagination  was, 
indeed,  attempted  by  a  most  unkind  gentleman,  the  most  adorned  creature 
that  ever  your  Majesty  made;" — the  Queen  herself  presently  adding: — "That 
tragedy  was  played  forty  times  in  open  streets  and  houses." — Life  of  Ralegh, 
Ed-wards,  Vol.  II.  p.  167. 

Elizabeth  died  Mar.  24th,  1603.  In  this  year  appeared  Johann  Bayer's  Ur- 
anometria  containing  the  constellations  of  the  Phoenix  and  the  Peacock.  The 
Phrenix  being  a  memorial  to  the  author  of  our  Shake-spearian  literature,  the 
Peacock  a  sign  in  the  heavens  so  that  he  who  runs  can  spell  out  the  name  of 
the  Stratford  Cuckce  "that  so  had  crossed  sweet  Philomelas  note."  Cp.  p.  18. 


140  Shake-spear e  England* s    Ulysses, 

ACT  IV. 

Ambition  to  Wisdom.  1 1 7=Lxxxvm. 

When  thou  shalt  be  dispos'd  to  set  me  light, 
And  place  my  merit  in  the  eye  of  scorn, 
Upon  thy  side  against  myself  I'll  fight, 
And  prove  thee  virtuous,  though  thou  art  forsworn. ' 
With  mine  own  weakness  being  best  acquainted, 
Upon  thy  part  I  can  set  down  a  storv  ) 

Of  faults  conceal'd,  wherein  I  am  attainted,  ) 
That  thou  in  losing  me  shalt  win  much  glory: 
And  I  by  this  will  be  a  gainer  too; 
For  bending  all  my  loving  thoughts  on  thee, 
The  injuries  that  to  myself  I  do, 
Doing  thee  vantage,  double-vantage  me. 
Such  is  my  love,  to  thee  I  so  belong, 
That  for  thy  right,  mvself  will  bear  all  wrong. 


1  From  Son.  IOO-LXXXVII.  1.  9,  it  appears  that  ll'isdom,  at  one  time,  was  be- 
trothed to  Ambition. 

2  The  characters  being  Pythagoreans,  Ambition  here  refers  to  the  relation- 
ship of  Hope  and  Knowledge  in  Act  III.     Cp.  Son.  (>^  ex. 

VERSES  To  THE  CONCEIT  OF  THE  FAKRV  (JIRKX. 
To  look  upon  a  work  of  rare  devise 

The  which  a  workman  setteth  out  to  view,1 
And  not  to  yield  it  the  deserved  praise 

That  unto  such  a  workmanship  is  dew, 
Doth  either  prove  the  judgement  to  be  naught, 
Or  else  doth  shew  a  mind  with  envy  fraught. 

To  labor  to  commend  a  piece  of  work, 

Which  no  man  goss  about  to  discommend, 

Would  raise  a  jealous  doubt,  that  there  did  lurk 
Some  sscret  thought  whereto  the  praise  did  tend: 

For  when  men  know  the  goodness  of  the  wine, 

'Tis  needless  for  the  hoast  to  have  a  signe.2 

1  Would  this  line  have  been  acceptable  to  Spenser  from  any  other  pen  than  Shake-speare's? 

2  Good  wine  needs  no  bush. — As  You  Like  It,  Epil. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     141 


SCENE  IV. 

Ambition  to  Beauty.  1 1 8=Lxxix. 

Whilst  I  alone  did  call  upon  thy  aid, 
My  verse  alone  had  all  thy  gentle  grace, 
But  now  my  gracious  numbers  are  decay 'd, 
And  my  sick  Muse  doth  give  another  place. * 
I  grant,  sweet  love,  thy  lovely  argument 
Deserves  the  travail  of  a  worthier  pen, 
Yet  what  of  thee  thy  poet  doth  invent 
He  robs  thee  of  and  pays  it  thee  again. 
He  lends  thee  virtue,  and  he  stole  that  word 
From  thy  behaviour;  beauty  doth  he  give, 
And  found  it  in  thy  cheek:  he  can  afford 
No  praise  to  thee,  but  what  in  thee  doth  live. 
Then  thank  him  not  for  that  which  he  doth  say, 
Since  what  he  owes  thee  thou  thyself  dost  pay. 

1  Ambition's  jealousy  of  ll-risdom,  so  strongly  evidenced  in  Son.  iO4-cxvi., 
here  again  breaks  out. 

Thus  then,  to  shew  my  judgement  to  be  such 
As  can  discourse  of  colors  black  and  white, 
As  alls  to  free  my  mind  from  envies  touch, 

That  never  gives  to  any  man  his  right; 
I  here  pronounce  this  workmanship  is  such       f 
As  that  no  pen  can  set  it  forth  too  much. 

And  thus  I  hang  a  garland  at  the  dore; 

[Not  for  to  shew  the  goodness  of  the  ware; 
But  such  hath  been  the  custom  heretofore, 

And  customs  very  hardly  broken  .are;] 
And  when  your  taste  shall  tell  you  this  is  true, 
Then  look  you  give  your  hoast  his  utmost  due. 

Ignoto. 

As  K  /''c//  Cp(»i  a  /)a\',  or  Tlic  \i^  lit  inhale  To  /it's  Muse,  was  subscribed 
Jgnoto  in  England's  Helicon,  1600.  In  Love" s  Martyr.  I^tioto  is  the  moving 
spirit;  it  is  from  fgrnoto"1  s  lines  that  Chapman,  Marston,  and  Jonson,  base  their 
instructions  for  the  burning  of  the  second  Phoenix. 

"The  flame  that  eats  her,  feeds  the  others  life." 

This  second  Phoenix  is  Shake-speare's  poem  of  The  P/nvnix  and  Turtle 
Dove,  showing,  almost  conclusively,  that  Robert  Chester's  Love's  Martyr  is  a 
posthumous  work  of  Shake-speare.  Cp.  note  from  Saintsbury,  p.  41, 


142  Shake-speare  England' s  Ulysses, 


ACT  IV. 

Beauty  to  Ambition.    ii9=xcvi. 

Some  say  thy  fault  is  youth,  some  wantonness; 
Some  say  thy  grace  is  youth  and  gentle  sport; 
Both  grace  and  faults  are  lov'd  of  more  and  less: 
Thou  mak'st  faults  graces,  that  to  thee  resort. 
As  on  the  ringer  of  a  throned  queen 
The  basest  jewel  will  be  well  esteem'd; 
So  are  those  errors  that  in  thee  are  seen 
To  truths  translated  and  for  true  things  deem'd. 
How  many  lambs  might  the  stern  wolf  betray, 
If  like  a  lamb  he  could  his  looks  translate! 
How  many  gazers  mightst  thou  lead  away, 
If  thou  wouldst  use  the  strength  of  all  thy  state!1 
But  do  not  so;  I  love  thee  in  such  sort, 
As,  thou  being  mine,  mine  is  thy  good  report. 

1  Folly.  Cp.  Dramatis  Personae,  p.  24,  note  i,  p.  47,  and  note  2,  p.  37. 
In  "As  You  Like  It,"  hints  for  the  scene  of  Orlando's  encounter  with  Charles 
the  Wrestler,  and  for  Touchstone's  description  'of  the  diverse  shapes  of  a  lie, 
were  clearly  drawn  from  a  book  called  "Saviolo's  Practise,"  a  manual  of  the  art 
of  self-defence,  which  appeared  in  1595  from  the  pen  of  Vincentio  Saviolo,  an 
Italian  fencing-master  in  the  service  of  the  Earl  of  Essex. — Life  of  S/iakc- 
spcat'c,  Sidncv  Lee,  p.  209. 

Such  one  he  ti'rt.s-,1  of  him  we  boldly  say, 

In  whose  rich  soul  all  sovereign  powers  did  suit, 

In  whom  in  peace  the  elements  all  lay 

So  mixt  as  none  could  sovereignty  impute, 

As  all  did  govern  yet  all  did  obey: 

His  lively  temper  zcas1  so  absolute, 

That  it  seemed,  when  Heaven  his  model  first  began, 

In  him  it  showed  perfection  in  a  man. 

Michael  Dm  \loti,  1603.  * 

It  is  noticeable  that  in  a  later  edition  of  his  poem  [1619]  Drayton  has  returned 
to  his  description,  and  retouched  it  into  a  still  nearer  likeness  to  that  of  Shak- 
speare.  The  last  two  lines  are  altered  thus: — 

As  that  it  seemed  when  Nature  him  began, 
She  meant  to  show  all  that  might  be  in  man. 

Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  Certdd  Massev,  p.  573. 

1  Shake-speare  the  Dramatist  died  Feby-  2,5th.  1601,    Shakspere  the  Player,  April  zard,  1616. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     143 


SCENE  IV. 

Ambition  to  Beauty.   120 — xc. 

Then  hate  me  when  thou  wilt;  if  ever,  now; 

Now,  while  the  world  is  bent  my  deeds  to  cross, 

Join  with  the  spite  of  fortune,  make  me  bow, 

And  do  not  drop  in  for  an  after-loss: 

Ah,  do  not,  when  my  heart  hath  scap'd  this  sorrow, 

Come  in  the  rearward  of  a  conquer'd  woe, 

Give  not  a  windy  night  a  rainy  morrow, 

To  linger  out  a  purpos'd  overthrow. 

If  thou  wilt  leave  me,  do  not  leave  me  last, 

When  other  petty  griefs  have  done  their  spite, 

But  in  the  onset  come;  so  shall  I  taste 

At  first  the  very  worst  of  fortune's  might; 

And  other  strains  of  woe,  which  now  seem  woe, 
Compar'd  with  loss  of  thee  will  not  seem  so. 

\_Enter  Nature  and  Time. 

Students  of  Shakspeare's  times,  his  life,  and  works,  unless  their  view  may 
have  been  distorted  by  a  wrong  interpretation  of  Meres'  meaning  when  he  spoke 
of  Shakspeare's  "private  friends"  amongst  whom  the  "sugared  sonnets"  circu- 
lated, will  have  received  an  impression  that  our  poet  must  have  been  in  some 
way,  to  some  extent,  mixed  up  with  the  affairs  of  Ess^x.  I  am  told  that  the 
late  Mr.  Croker,  of  the  Quarterly  Kei't'en.',  always  entertained  this  opinion, 
although  he  could  never  lay  his  hand  on  any  very  tangible  evidence  of  the  fact. 
There  is  constructive  evidence  enough  to  show,  that  if  Shakspeare  was  not 
hand-in-glove  with  the  Essex  faction,  he  fought  on  their  side  pen-in-hand.  In 
the  chorus  at  the  end  of  "Henry  the  Fifth"  he  introduced  a  prophecy  of  the 
Earl's  expected  successes  in  Ireland. — Shakspeare's  Sonnets,  Gerald  Massey, 
p.  50,  sup. 

In  1587  the  two  chief  companies  of  actors,  claiming  respectively  the  nominal 
patronage  of  the  Queen  and  Lord  Leicester,1  returned  to  London  from  a  pro- 
vincial tour,  during  which  they  visited  Stratford.  Two  subordinate  compan- 
ies, one  of  which  claimed  the  patronage  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  and  the  other  that 
of  Lord  Stafford,  also  performed  in  the  town  during  the  same  year. — Life  of 
Shakespeare,  Sidney  Lee,  p.  33. 
1  Stepfather  of  Essex. 


144  Shake-speare  England" s  Ulysses, 


ACT  IV, 

Nature  to  Ambition.    121=111. 

Look  in  thy  glass,  and  tell  the  face  thou  viewest, 
Now  is  the  time  that  face  should  form  another; 
Whose  fresh  repair  if  now  thou  not  renewest, 
Thou  dost  beguile  the  world,  unbless  some  mother. [ 
For  where  is  she  so  fair  whose  unear'd  womb 
Disdains  the  tillage  of  thy  husbandry? 
Or  who  is  he  so  fond  will  be  the  tomb 
Of  his  self-love,  to  stop  posterity  ? 
Thou  art  thy  mother's  glass,  and  she  in  thee 
Calls  back  the  lovely  April  of  her  prime: 
So  thou  through  windows  of  thine  age  shalt  see 
Despite  of  wrinkles  this  thy  golden  time. 
But  if  thou  live,  rememb'red  not  to  be, 
Die  single,  and  thine  image  dies  with  thee. 


1  The  goddess  Hope,  Act  III. 

On  the  i4th  of  February  [1598],  a  great  entertainment  was  given  at  Essex 
House,  at  which  the  Ladies  Leicester,  Northumberland,  Bedford,  Essex,  Rich; 
Lords  Essex,  Rutland,  Mountjoy,  and  others,  were  present.  They  had  two 
plays  performed  before  them,  which  kept  them  till  one  o'clock  after  midnight. 
Considering  the  close  connection  which  existed  between  Essex  and  Southamp- 
ton, the  great  patron  of  Shakspere,  who  was  still  abroad,  but  ordered  to  return 
forthwith,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  plays  were  his,  perhaps  then  per- 
formed for  the  first  time,  before  this  noble  audience.  If  our  informant  had 
only  been  a  little  more  particular,  we  might  have  had  the  dates  of  two  of  the 
great  poet's  dramas  fixed;  perhaps  he  himself  took  apart  in  them.—  Lives  of  (he 
J'Uuis  of  ttssex,  /)ei'ereux,  Vol.  I.  p.  479. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     145 

SCENE  IV. 

Time  to  Wisdom.       I22=xn. 

When  I  do  count  the  clock  that  tells  the  time, 
And  see  the  brave  day  sunk  in  hideous  night; 
When  I  behold  the  violet  past  prime, 
And  sable  curls  all  silver'd  o'er  with  white; 
When  lofty  trees  I  see  barren  of  leaves, 
Which  erst  from  heat  did  canopy  the  herd, 
And  summer's  green  all  girded  up  in  sheaves, 
Borne  on  the  bier  with  white  and  bristly  beard; 
Then  of  thy  beauty  do  I  question  make, 
That  thou  among  the  wastes  of  Time  must  go, 
Since  sweets  and  beauties  do  themselves  forsake 
And  die  as  fast  as  they  see  others  grow; 

And  nothing  'gainst  Time's  scythe  can  make  defence 
Save  breed,  to  brave  him  when  he  takes  thee  hence. 


Besides  his  other  defects,  Essex's  violent  temper  unfitted  him  for  Court  life. 
Cuffe,  his  most  intimate  secretary,  said  of  him  that  "he  always  carried  on  his 
brow  either  love  or  hatred,  and  did  not  understand  concealment."  Wotton 
describes  him  as  a  "great  resenter,"  and  as  "no  good  pupil  to  my  Lord  of 
Leicester,  who  was  wont  to  put  all  his  passion  in  his  pocket."  On  the  other 
hand  Essex  had  a  generosity,  a  truthfulness,  and  a  warmheartedness  that,  in 
the  judgment  of  his  friends,  atoned  for  a  thousand  faults.  The  impression  pro- 
duced by  a  short  interview  with  him,  when  suddenly  he  calls  in  on  Anthony 
Bacon  and  a  little  group  of  friends,  and  brightens  them  up  with  the  sunshine 
of  his  hopeful  nature,  reminds  one  of  Shakespeare's  description  of  Henry  V. 

A  largess  universal  as  the  sun, 
His  liberal  eye  doth  give  to  every  one; 
That  every  wretch,  pining  and  pale  before, 
Beholding  him,  plucks  comfort  from  his  looks. 
Bucon  and  Essex,  Abbott,  p.  26. 

Bacon's  insensibility  is  characteristic  ....  let  any  one  read  the  Essay  on 
Love,  and  remember  that  some  persons,  not  always  inmates  of  lunatic  asy- 
lums, have  held  that  Bacon  wrote  the  plays  of  Shakespeare — his  pusillanimity, 
his  lack  of  passion, — History  of  English  Literature,  Saintsbury,  p.  208. 

10 


146  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  IV. 

Nature  to  Beauty.  i23==v. 

Those  hours,  that  with  gentle  work  did  frame 

The  lovely  gaze  where  every  eye  doth  dwell, 

Will  play  the  tyrants  to  the  very  same, 

And  that  unfair  which  fairly  doth  excel: 

For  never-resting  Time  leads  summer  on 

To  hideous  winter  and  confounds  him  there; 

Sap  check'd  with  frost  and  lusty  leaves  quite  gone, 

Beauty  o'ersnow'd  and  bareness  every  where: 

Then,  were  not  summer's  distillation  left, 

A  liquid  prisoner  pent  in  walls  of  glass, 

Beauty's  effect  with  beauty  were  bereft, 

Nor  it  nor  no  remembrance  what  it  was : 

But  flowers  distill'd,  though  they  with  winter  meet, 
Leese  but  their  show;  their  substance  still  lives  sweet. 

\Exeunt. 

Love's  Martyr;  or  Rosalinds  Complaint ....  a  Poeme  enterlaced  with  much 
varietie  and  raritie;  now  first  translated  out  of  the  venerable  Italian  Torquato 
Cceliano,  by  Robert  Chester,  1601. 

Landulpho.         }  Mogt  ugly  Hnes  and  base.browne.paper.stu£fe 

'  Thus  to  abuse  our  heavenly  poesie, 

That  sacred  off-spring  from  the  braine  of  Jove 

Mavortius.     I  see  [my  Lord]  this  home-spun  country  stuffe 
Brings  little  liking  to  your  curious  eare, 
Be  patient,  for  perhaps  the  play  will  mend. 

[Enter  Troylits  and  Cressida. 

Troylus.     Come  Cressida,  my  Cresset  light,  .... 
Thy  knight  his  valiant  elbow  wears, 
That  when  he  Shakes  his  furious  S pea  re 
The  foe  in  shivering  fearful  sort 
May  lay  him  down  in  death  to  snort.  .  .  . 

Landulpho.     I  blush  in  your  behalfes  at  this  base  trash 

I  have  a  mistresse1  whose  intangling  wit 

Will  turne  and  winde  more  cunning  arguments 

Than  could  the  Cretan  labyrinth*  ingyre. 

I/i'strio-Afastix,  n.    i.,  Jno.  Marston. 

Cp.   The  School  of  Shakspere,  Simpson,  Vol.  II.  pp.  39,  42. 
1  Cp,  sub-note  i,  p.  40.  3  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     147 


ACT  V. 

MUSES  REPRESENTED. 
TRUTH — TIME — ART — FOLLY — NATURE. 


SCENE  I.     Enter  NATURE  and  THE  GOD  OF  TRUTH. 
Nature  to  Truth.     i24=LXXXiv. 

Who  is  it  that  says  most?  which  can  say  more 
Than  this  rich  praise,  that  you  alone  are  you  ? 
In  whose  confine  immured  is  the  store 
Which  should  example  where  your  equal  grew. 
Lean  penury  within  that  pen  doth  dwell, 
That  to  his  subject  lends  not  some  small  glory; 
But  he  that  writes  of  you,  if  he  can  tell 
That  you  are  you, ]  so  dignifies  his  story. 
Let  him  but  copy  what  in  you  is  writ, 
Not  making  worse  what  Nature  made  so  clear, 
And  such  a  counterpart  shall  fame  his  wit, 
Making  his  style  admired  every  where. 

You  to  your  beauteous  blessings  add  a  curse, 
Being  fond  on  praise,  which  makes  your  praises  worse. 

1  What  is  Truth?  said  jesting  Pilate;  and  would  not  stay  for  an  answer. — Of 
Truth,  Francis  Bacon. 

Renowned  Spenser,  lie  a  thought  more  nigh 
To  learned  Chaucer;  and,  rare  Beaumont,  lie 
A  little  nearer  Spenser,  to  make  room 
For  Shakspeare  in  your  threefold,  fourfold  tomb. 
To  lodge  all  four  in  one  bed  make  a  shift, 
For,  until  doomsday  hardly  will  a  fifth, 
Betwixt  this  day  and  that,  by  fates  be  slain, 
For  whom  your  curtains  need  be  drawn  again. 
But  if  precedency*  in  death  doth  bar 
A  fourth  place  in  your  sacred  sepulchre, 
Under  this  sable  marble  of  thine  own, 

Sleep,  rare  tragedian,2  Shakspeare,  sleep  alone 

W,  Basse,  1622. 

1  Shake-speare  the  Dramatist,  died  Febry.  25th,  1601, 

3  Shakspere  the  Player,  died  April  23rd,  1616, 


148  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  V. 


Truth  to  Nature.      1 25=0x11. 

Your  love  and  pity  doth  th'  impression  fill 
Which  vulgar  scandal  stamp'd  upon  my  brow; 
For  what  care  I  who  calls  me  well  or  ill, ! 
So  you  o'er-green  my  bad,  my  good  allow? 
You  are  my  all  the  world,  and  I  must  strive 
To  know  my  shames  and  praises  from  your  tongue; 
None  else  to  me,  nor  I  to  none  alive, 
That  my  steel'd  sense  or  changes  right  or  wrong: 
In  so  profound  abysm  I  throw  all  care 
Of  others'  voices,  that  my  adder's  sense 
To  critic  and  to  flatterer  stopped  are:— 
Mark  how  with  my  neglect  I  do  dispense— 
You  are  so  strongly  in  my  purpose  bred 
That  all  the  world  besides  methinks  are  dead. 


1  Truth  only  doth  judge  itself.  —  Of  Truth,  Francis  liacon. 

The  purpose  of  Ao<r\v  Marlvr,  published  in  1601,  is  declared  on  the  title 
page. 

Mar : — Mutarc  dominion  no)i  palest  liber  no/us. 

On  page  34,  supra.,  it  is  shown  that  the  dialogue  in  Loir's  Martyr  is  a  play 
by  example  for  this  Sonnet  Masque — so  the  authorship  of  Shake-speare  was  a 
matter  of  great  moment  even  to  the  Elizabethans. 

You  are  Mistaken,  insatiable  thief  of  my  writings,  who  think  a  poet  can  be 
made  for  the  mere  expense  which  copying,  and  a  cheap  volume  cost.  The  ap- 
plause of  the  world  is  not  acquired  for  six  or  even  ten  sesterces.  Seek  out  for 
this  purpose  verses  treasured  up,  and  unpublished  efforts,  known  only  to  one 
person,  and  which  the  father  himself  of  the  virgin  sheet,  that  has  been  worn 
and  scrubbed  by  bushy  chins,  keeps  sealed  up  in  his  desk.1  ./  n'c/l  knozcn 
book  cannot  change  its  master.-  But  if  there  is  one  to  be  found  yet  unpol- 
ished by  the  pumice-stone,  yet  unadorned  with  bosses  and  cover,  buy  it:  I  have 
such  by  me,  and  no  one  shall  know  it.  Whoever  recites  another's  composi- 
tions, and  seeks  for  fame,  must  buy,  not  a  book,  but  the  author's  silence. — A/>- 
igram  LXVI. ,  Alartiai. 

1  Drayton's  lines,  p.  156,  seem  to  point  to  this  sentence. 

2  Cp.  notes,  pp.  80,  89,  and  Bacon's  borrowing  from  Shake-speare,  p.  i4<> 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     149 


SCENE  I. 

Nature  to  Truth.       i26=cxv. 

Those  lines  that  I  before  have  writ  do  lie, 
Even  those  that  said  I  could  not  love  you  dearer: 
Yet  then  my  judgment  knew  no  reason  why 
My  most  full  flame  should  afterwards  burn  clearer. 
But  reckoning  Time,  whose  million'd  accidents 
Creep  in  'twixt  vows,  and  change  decrees  of  kings, 
Tan  sacred  beauty,  blunt  the  sharp'st  intents, 
Divert  strong  minds  to  th'  course  of  alt'ring  things:1 
Alas,  why,  fearing  of  Time's  tyranny, 
Might  I  noi  then  say  'Now  I  love  you  best,' 
When  I  was  certain  o'er  incertainty, 2 
Crowning  the  present,  doubting  of  the  rest? 
Love  is  a  babe;  then  might  I  not  say  so, 
To  give  full  growth  to  that  which  still  doth  grow. 

[  Curtain. 

1  Cp.  note  3,  Son.  93-xvin.  By  referring  to  the  Dramatis  Personae,  p.  24,  it 
will  be  seen  that  Nature,  in  her  eternizing,  has  returned  to  the  intellectual  line. 

a  Cp.  Son.  g6-cvii.  1.  7. 

It  was  a  prevailing  tenet  of  the  Academics,  that  there  is  no  certain  knowl- 
edge.—  Of  the  Nature  of  the  Gods,  Cicero,  p.  9. 

The  remarkable  charge  that  Bacon  borrowed  from  Shakespeare  is  not  orig- 
inal, Massey  in  his  book  on  the  Sonnets,  runs  through  several  pages  in  this 
fashion:  Personally,  I  have  sometimes  thought  there  was  something  conscious, 
not  to  say  sinister,  in  the  silence  of  Bacon  respecting  Shakespeare.  As  Spedding 
points  out,  Bacon  had  a  regular  system  of  taking  notes,  and  of  intentionally  al- 
tering the  things  that  he  quoted  .  .  .  This  opens  a  vast  vista  of  responsibility 
in  his  covert  mode  of  assimilating  the  thoughts,  purloining  the  gold,  and  clipping 
the  coinage  of  Shakespeare  ....  It  has  often  been  a  matter  of  surprise  that 

Bacon  should  not  have  recognized  Shakespeare  or  his  work1 His 

Promus  is  the  record  of  much  that  he  took  directly  from  Shakespeare.  For 
eight  or  ten  years  he  had  free  play  and  full  pasturage  in  Shakespeare's  field 
before  he  published  his  first  ten  essays  ....  It  is  this  borrowing  from  Shake- 
speare by  Bacon  that  has  given  so  much  trouble  and  labor  in  vain  to  the  Ba- 
conians .  .  .  The  simple  solution  is  that  Bacon  ivas  the  unsuspected  thief,  who 
has  been  accredited  with  the  original  ownership  of  the  property  purloined  by 
Shakespeare. — Shakspere  Not  Shakespeare,  IT.  II.  /u 
1  Cp.  lines  from  Harnlet,  p.  151. 


150  Shake-speare  England '  s  Ulysses \ 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  II.     Enter  THE  GODS  OF  FOLLY  and  ART. 
Folly  to  Art.  i27=Lxxx. 

0,  how  I  faint  when  I  of  you  do  write, 
Knowing  a  better  spirit  doth  use  your  name, ] 
And  in  the  praise  thereof  spends  all  his  might, 
To  make  me  tongue-tied,  speaking  of  your  fame! 
But  since  your  worth,  wide  as  the  ocean  is. 

The  humble  as  the  proudest  sail  doth  bear, 

My  saucy  bark,  inferior  far  to  his, 

On  your  broad  main  doth  wilfully  appear. 

Your  shallowest  help  will  hold  me  up  afloat, 

Whilst  he  upon  your  soundless  deep  doth  ride; 

Or,  being  wreck'd,  I  am  a  worthless  boat, 

He  of  tall  building  and  of  goodly  pride: 
Then  if  he  thrive  and  I  be  cast  away, 
The  worst  was  this ;  my  love  was  my  decay. 

1  The  god  of  Truth.      "Art  is  true." 

2  Cp.  note  on  the  sensual  line,  p.  86. 

Elizabeth,  who  "looked  that  her  word  should  be  a  warrant,"  chose  to  employ 
him  [Bacon]  in  the  business  which  belonged  properly  to  her  learned  council. 
....  His  first  service  of  that  nature, — the  first  at  least  of  which  I  find  any  re- 
cord, was  in  1594 We  have  a  letter  of  Bacon's  to  King  James,  written 

in  1606,  in  which  he  speaks  of  his  "nine  years'  service  of  the  crown."  This 
would  give  1597  as  the  year  in  which  he  began  to  serve  as  one  of  the  learned 
council. — Works  of  Francis  Bacon,  Spedding.  [Philosophical  Writings,  Vol. 

1.  p.  39-] 

It  was  Bacon  who  withdrew  himself  from  Essex,  not  Essex  who  shunned  Ba- 
con   As  early  as  March,  1597,  we  find  him  therefore  shunning  Essex's 

company  in  Court,  desiring  to  speak  with  him,  but  "somewhere  else  than  at 
Court." — Bacon  and  Essex,  Edivin  A.  Abbott,  p.  103. 

Mr.  Swinburne  goes  still  farther.  "Not  one  single  alteration  in  the  whole  play," 
he  says  when  speaking  of  the  revision  of  Hamlet,  '  'can  possibly  have  been  made 
with  a  view  to  stage  effect,  or  to  present  popularity  and  profit."  Nay,  he  affirms 
that  every  change  in  the  text  of  Hamlet  has  impaired  its  fitness  for  the  stage  and 
increased  its  value  for  the  closet  in  exact  and  perfect  proportion. —  rfhe  Mystery 
of  William  Shakespeare,  Judge  Webb,  p.  88. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     151 


SCENE  II. 

Art  to  Folly.  1 28— CL. 

O,  from  what  power  hast  thou  this  powerful  might, 
With  insufficiency  my  heart  to  sway? 
To  make  me  give  the  lie  to  my  true  sight, 
And  swear  that  brightness  doth  not  grace  the  day? 
Whence  ha.st  thou  this  becoming  of  things  ill, 
That  in  the  very  refuse  of  thy  deeds 
There  is  such  strength  and  warrantise  of  skill 
That,  in  my  mind,  thy  worst  all  best  exceeds? 
Who  taught    thee  how  to  make  me  love  thee  more, 
The  more  I  hear  and  see  just  cause  of  hate? 
O,  though  I  love  what  others  do  abhor, 
With  others  thou  shouldst  not  abhor  my  state: 
If  thy  unworthiness  rais'd  love  in  me, 
More  worthy  I  to  be  belov'd  of  thee. 


Neither  was  the  effect  of  the  sentence  that  there  passed  against  him  any  more 
than  a  suspension  of  the  exercise  of  some  of  his  places:  at  which  time  also  Es- 
sex, that  could  vary  himself  into  all  shapes  for  a  time,  infinitely  desirous  [as 
by  the  sequel  now  appeareth]  to  be  at  liberty  to  practise  and  revise^  his  for- 
mer purposes. — Declaration  of  the  Treasons  of  Essex,  Francis  Bacon,  1601. 

Osric.     Your  lordship  is  right  welcome  back  to  Denmark. 

Hamlet.  I  humbly  thank  you,  sir. — {Aside  to  Horatio,]  Dost  know  this 
water-fly? 

Horatio.      {Aside  to  Hamlet,]  No,  my  good  lord. 

Hamlet.  {Aside  to  Horatio,}  Thy  state  is  the  more  gracious;  for  't  is  a  vice 
to  know  him.a  He  hath  much  land,  and  fertile;  let  a  beast  be  lord  of  beasts, 
and  his  crib  shall  stand  at  the  king's  mess:  "Pis  a  chough;  but,  as  I  say,  spacious 
in  the  possession  of  dirt.3 — Hamlet,  v.  2. 

1  On  page  191  of  Mr.  Abbott's  book,  Bacon  and  Essex,  the  word  is  "revise,"  in  the  "Dec- 
laration," p.  14,  "revive." 

2  Essex  "did  not  seem  to  know  that  he  had  ever  deserved  -well  of  Bacon."     Cp.   Macaulay's 
lines,  p.  81. 

3  If,  upon  compulsion,  I  were  to  make  a  guess  as  to  the  parcel  of  land  referred  to  it  would 
be  that  described  in  sub-note  2,  p.  106. 


152  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


ACT  V 
Folly  to  Art.  i29=Lxxxix. 

Say  that  thou  didst  forsake  me  for  some  fault, 
And  I  will  comment  upon  that  offence: 
Speak  of  my  lameness,  and  I  straight  will  halt;1 
Against  thy  reasons  making  no  defence. 
Thou  canst  not,  love,  disgrace  me  half  so  ill, 
To  set  a  form  upon  desired  change, 
As  I'll  myself  disgrace:  knowing  thy  will, 
I  will  acquaintance  strangle  and  look  strange ; 
Be  absent  from  thy  walks;  and  in  my  tongue 
Thy  sweet  beloved  name  no  more  shall  dwell, 
Lest  I,  too  much  profane,  should  do  it  wrong, 
And  haply  of  our  old  acquaintance  tell. '' 
For  thee  against  myself  I'll  vow  debate, 
For  I  must  ne'er  love  him  whom  thou  dost  hate.3 


1  Psychologically,    Folly  partakes   of  the  character  of  his  great-great-grand- 
father, Desire.     Cp.  Son.  n-xxxvn.  1.  3. 

2  As  Desire  and  Love,  Act  I. 

3  Here  Folly  refers  to  Son.  i8-cxLix.  1.  5,  when  Folly  and  Art  were  Desire 
and  Love. 

Finding  that  the  Queen's  severity  [to  Essex]  was  so  disproportioned  to  the 
offence,  the  writer  casts  about  to  imagine  other  crimes,  and  is  persuaded  there 
must  be  something  more  at  the  bottom.1 — Sydney  Papers,  Oct.  6th.  What 
articles  were  brought  against  him  is  not  publicly  known.— Bacon  and  J-',ssex, 
Abbott,  p.  140. 

Her  Majesty  in  her  royal  intention  never  purposed  to  call  your  Lordship's 
doings  into  public  question  ....  For  first,  the  handling  the  cause  in  the  Star 
Chamber,  you  not  called,  was  enforced  by  the  violence  of  libeling  and  ru- 
mours, wherein  the  Queen  thought  to  have  satisfied  the  world,  and  yet  spared 

your  Lordship's  appearance Her  Majesty  spared  the  public  place  of 

the  Star  Chamber;  she  limited  the  charge  precisely  not  to  touch  disloyalty; 
and  no  record  remaineth  to  memory  of  I  he  charge  or  sentenced — Letter, 
Anthony  Bacon  to  I'lssex  to  be  shown  the  Queen.  —  Bacon  and  lissex,  Abbott. 
p.  188.  " 

1  Cp.  sub-notes  2  and  5,  p.  116. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     153. 


SCENE  II. 

Art  to  Folly.  i3o=cxx. 

That  you  were  once  unkind  befriends  me  now, 
And  for  that  sorrow,  which  I  then  did  feel, 
Needs  must  I  under  my  transgression  bow, 
Unless  my  nerves  were  brass  or  hammer'd  steel. 
For  if  vou  were  by  my  unkindness  shaken1 
As  I  by  yours,  you've  pass'd  a  hell  of  time, 
And  I,  a  tyrant,  have  no  leisure  taken 
To  weigh  how  once  I  suffer'd  in  your  crime.2 
O,  that  our  night  of  woe  might  have  remember'd 
My  deepest  sense,  how  hard  true  sorrow  hits, 
And  soon  to  you,  as  you  to  me,  then  tender'd 
The  humble  salve  which  wounded  bosoms  fits! 

But  that,  your  trespass,  now  becomes  a  fee; 

Mine  ransoms  yours,  and  yours  must  ransom  me. 


1  Cp.  Son.  i6-xxxix.  1.  5. 

2  The  characters  are  Pythagoreans.     Cp.  Son.  I5~xxxvi.  1.  9. 

Raleigh  had  powerful  enemies,  some  of  whom  declared  that  the  whole  story 
of  the  voyage  to  Guiana  was  a  fiction.  It  was  to  refute  this  slander  that  he 
wrote  his  DiscoTerie  of  Guiana,  1596.  At  the  same  time  he  dre.ru  a  map, 
which  was  not  yet  finished  when  the  book  was  published.  This  map,  long  sup- 
posed to  bs  lost,  has  been  now  identified  with  a  map  in  the  British  Museum, 
dated  1650  in  the  catalogue,  but  shown  to  be  Raleigh's  by  a  careful  compar- 
ison with  the  text  of  the  *' DiscoTerie"  and  with  Raleigh's  known  hand  writ- 
ing—Raleigh's accuracy  as  a  topographer  and  cartographer  of  Guiana  or  the 
central  district  of  Venezuela  has  been  established  by  subsequent  explorers. — 
Dictionary  of  N.  B.,  p.  104. 

Maria.     He  [Sir  Walter  Malvolio1]  does  obey  every  point  of  the  letter  that  I 
dropped  to  betray  him:  he  does  smile  his  face  into  more  lines  than  are  in  the 
nezu  mafi,  ruilh  the  augmentation  of  the  Indies. —  Tiuelfth  Xighl ;  or,   II  Jiat 
You   //'7//,  in.  2.. 
1  Cp.  notes,  p.  124. 


154  Shake-speare  England 's   Ulysses, 

ACT  V. 

Folly  to  Art.  i3i=cxxxv. 

Whoever  hath  her  wish,  thou  hast  thy  'Will,'1 

And  'Will'2  to  boot,  and  'Will'3  in  overplus; 

More  then  enough  am  I  that  vex  thee  still, 

To  thy  sweet  will  making  addition  thus. 

Wilt  thou,  whose  will1  is  large  and  spacious, 

Not  once  vouchsafe  to  hide  my  will4  in  thine? 

Shall  will4  in  others  seem  right  gracious, 

And  in  my  will4  no  fair  acceptance  shine  ? 

The  sea,  all  water,  yet  receives  rain  still, 

And  in  abundance  addeth  to  his  store ;    \JEnter  Nature. 

So  thou,  being  rich  in  'Will,'1  add  to  thy  'Will'1 

One  will4  of  mine,  to  make  thy  large  'Will'1  more. 

Let  no  unkind,  no  fair  beseechers  kill; 

Think  all  but  one,  and  me  in  that  one  'Will.'5 

\_Exit  Folly. 


1  Legal  or  artistic  will. 

2  The  poet  Folly. 

3  An  overplus  of  Folly. 
*  Wish,  good  will. 

5  No  folly  in  the  artistic  will,  yet  I,  the  poet  Folly,  am  there. 

Essex  when  released  from  imprisonment  was  expressly  informed  that  he  must 
consider  himself  "under  indignation" — a  qualification  which  had  the  effect  of 
deterring  all  but  his  near  relations  from  visiting  him,  and,  after  having  spent 
his  fortunes  in  the  wars,  and  overwhelmed  himself  with  debt  in  the  service  of 
his  country,  he  was  deprived  by  the  Queen  of  the  grant  upon  the  continuance 
of  which  he  depended  for  his  subsistence,  and  was  brought  face  to  face  with 
beggary.  All  this  was  a  very  severe  punishment,  if  inflicted  for  mere  incapac- 
ity, even  though  accompanied  with  some  degree  of  wilful  ness  and  contempt  of 
orders.  It  is  natural  to  suppose  that  there  was  some  other  cause  for  the  Queen's 
displeasure.1 — Bacon  and  Essex,  Abbott,  p.  136. 
1  Cp.  sub-notes  2  and  5,  p.  116,  and  note,  p.  125. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     155 


SCENE  II. 

Nature  to  Art.  132=0. 

Where  art  thou,  Muse,  that  thou  forget'st  so  long 
To  speak  of  that  which  gives  thee  all  thy  might?1 
Spend'st  thou  thy  fury  on  some  worthless  song,    | 
Dark'ning  thy  pow'r  to  lend  base  s.ubjects  light?  j 
Return,  forgetful  Muse,  and  straight  redeem 
In  gentle  numbers  time  so  idly  spent; 
Sing  to  the  ear  that  doth  thy  lays  esteem, 
And  gives  thy  pen  both  skill  and  argument. 
Rise,  resty  Muse,  '*  my  love's1  sweet  face  survey, 
If  Time  have  any  wrinkle  graven  there; 
If  any,  be  a  satire  to  decay, 
And  make  Time's  spoils  despised  every  where. 

Give  my  love  fame  faster  than  Time  wastes  life; 

So  thou  prevent'st  his  scythe  and  crooked  knife. 


1  Truth. 

2  Folly. 

3 


Rail  not  gainst  Fortunes  sacred  deitie, 
In  youth  thy  virtuous  patience  she  hath  tryed, 
From  this  base  earth  shee'l  lift  thee  up  on  hie, 
Where  in  content's  rich  chariot  thou  shalt  ride, 
And  never  with  impatience  to  abide: 

Fortune  will  glory  in  thy  great  renowne, 

And  on  thy  feathered  head1  will  set  a  crowne. 

Dame  Nature  to  The  Phoenix,  Love's  Martyr,  p.  31. 

Mr.  Chamberlain's  letters  give  us  more  particularly  the  proceedings  which 
were  continued  against  Essex  after  the  meeting  at  York  House,  by  which  the 
Queen  endeavoured  "to  break  his  proud  Spirit." 

June  23,  1600.  I  was  yesterday  at  the  Star  Chamber  upon  report  of  some 
special  matter  that  should  be  determined  touching  my  Lord  of  Essex,  when  the 
Lord  Keeper  made  a  very  grave  speech  in  nature  of  a  charge  to  the  Judges,  to 

look  to  the  overgrowing  idle  multitude  of  Justices  of  Peace: to  dis- 

coursers  and  meddlers  in  princes'1  matters:  and,  lastly,  to  libellers :z  on  occa- 
sion whereof  he  fell  to  a  digression  how  mercifully  Her  Majesty  had  dealt  with 
the  Earl  of  Essex,  in  proceeding  with  him  so  mildly,  and  by  a  private  hearing; 
whereas,  if  he  had  been  brought  to  that  place,  he  could  not  have  passed  without 
a  heavy  censure,  the  avoiding  whereof  must  only  be  imputed  to  God  and  Her 
Majesty's  clemency. — Lives  of  the  Earls  of  Essex,  Devereux,  Vol.  II.  p.  in. 

1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  73. 

2  Cp.  sub-notes  2  and  5,  p.  116. 


156  Shake-spectre  England *s    Ulysses, 


ACT  V. 
Art  to  Nature.         i33=cxvin. 

Like  as,  to  make  our  appetites  more  keen, 
With  eager  compounds  we  our  palate  urge; 
As,  to  prevent  our  maladies  unseen, 
We  sicken  to  shun  sickness  when  we  purge; 
Even  so,  being  full  of  your  ne'er-cloying  sweetness, 
To  bitter  sauces  did  I  frame  my  feeding; 
And,  sick  of  welfare,  found  a  kind  of  meetness 
To  be  diseas'd,  ere  that  there  was  true  needing. 
Thus  policy  in  love,  to  anticipate 
The  ills  that  were  not,  grew  to  faults  assured 
And  brought  to  medicine  a  healthful  state 
Which,  rank  of  goodness,  would  by  ill  be  cured: 
But  thence  I  learn,  and  find  the  lesson  true, 
Drugs  poison  him  that  so  fell  sick  of  you. 


1  We  can  command  Nature  only  by  obeying  her;  nor  can  Art  avail  anything 
except  as  Nature's  handmaiden. — Preface  lo  Bacon's  PhilosopJiical  ll'orks,  p. 

«5- 

For  such  whose  poems  be  they  ne'er  so  rare, 
In  private  chambers  that  encloistered  are, 
And  by  transcription  daintily  must  go 
As  tho'  the  world  unworthy  were  to  know 
Their  rich  composures,  Id  I  hose  men  ?<.'//<•>  keep 
These  tcondrous  relics1  in  their  judgment  deep, 
And  cry  them  up  so  let  such  pieces  be 
Spoke  of  by  those  that  shall  come  after  me. 

Poets  and  Posey,  Michael  Dray  ton   [quoted  by  Massey,  p.  571]. 
In  1609  Shakespeare's  Sonnets  appeared,   with  the  intimation  that  Shake- 
speare was  not  really  the  name  of  the  author,  but  was  the  noted  weed  in  which 
he  kept  invention;  and  in  the  same  year  Troilus  and  Cressida  was  published 
?<.'////  t/ie  announcement   [in   the  preface]    that  the  Shakespearian  Plays  were 
the  property  of  certain  grand  possessors.1 — The  Mystery  of  ll'illiam  Shake- 
speare, Judge  \Vebb,  p.  73. 
l  Cp.  sub-note  i,  p.  142. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     157 

SCENE  II. 

Nature  to  Art.  i34=LXi. 

Is  it  thy  will  thy  image  should  keep  open 

My  heavy  eyelids  to  the  weary  night? 

Dost  thou  desire  my  slumbers  should  be  broken, 

While  shadows  like  to  thee  do  mock  my  sight? 

Is  it  thy  spirit1  that  thou  send'st  from  thee 

So  far  from  home  into  my  deeds  to  pry, 

To  find  out  shames  and  idle  hours  in  me, 

The  scope  and  tenure  of  thy  jealousy? 

O,  no!  thy  love,  though  much,  is  not  so  great: 

It  is  my  love2  that  keeps  mine  eye  awake; 

Mine  own  true  love  that  doth  my  rest  -defeat, 

To  play  the  watchman  ever  for  thy  sake: 

For  thee  watch  I  whilst  thou  dost  wake  elsewhere, 
From  me  far  off,  with  others:]  all  too  near. 


1  Reality. 

2  Truth. 
:{  I'olly. 

It  is  therefore  indisputable  that  whether  it  were  Bacon's  misfortune,  or  fault, 
or  both—  he  was  selected  by  the  popular  indignation  as  one  of  the  prime  causers 
of  the  Queen's  indignation  against  Essex.  Why  was  this?  Why  did  the  pop- 
ular instinct  fall  upon  one  of  Essex's  closest  friends,  the  man  who  nine  weeks 
ago  had  subscribed  himself  to  the  Earl  "more  his  than  any  man's,  and  more  his 
than  any  man"  —  as  the  principal  enemy  and  underminer  of  the  fallen  favourite? 
Some  counsellor  must  have  borne  the  brunt,  as  ths  Queen  was  thought  inca- 
pable of  such  cruelty  —  then  why  did  not  Cecil  bear  the  brunt?  Why  does 
Rowland  White  over  and  over  again  acquit  Cecil  of  any  hostile  conduct  to 
Essex?  Why  does  he  expressly  say  that  one  attack  against  Essex  was  diverted 
by  the  kindness  of  Cecil?1  Why  does  he  expressly  mention  Bacon  as  an  enemy? 
Why  is  Bacon  himself  forced  to  confess  that  Cecil  remonstrated  with  him  on 
the  discreditable  rumors  of  his  treacherous  conduct  towards  his  former  patron? 
—  Bacon  and  lissex,  Abbott,  p.  159. 

1  Cp.  Raleigh's  letter  to  Cecil,  p.  125.  It  will  be  seen  that  Robert  Cecil  was  the  chief  con- 
spirator against  Essex,  and  that  money  and  advancement  were  the  motives  that  led  to  Bacon.'.s 
desertion  in  1594,  1597.  Cp.  also  Cecil's  letter  to  Edmondes,  p.  158, 


158  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  V. 

Art  to  Nature.  i35=XL. 

Take  all  my  loves,  my  love,  yea,  take  them  all; 

What  hast  thou  then  more  than  thou  hadst  before  ? 

No  love,  my  love,  that  thou  may'st  true  love  call; 

All  mine  was  thine  before  thou  hadst  this  more. 

Then  if  for  my  love,  thou  my  love  receivest, 

I  cannot  blame  thee,  for  my  love  thou  usest, 

But  yet  be  blam'd,  if  thou  thyself  deceivest 

By  wilful  taste  of  what  thyself  refusest. 

I  do  forgive  thy  robb'ry,  gentle  thief, 

Although  thou  steal  thee  all  my  poverty; 

And  yet,  love  knows,  it  is  a  greater  grief 

To  bear  love's  wrong  than  hate's  known  injury. 
Lascivious  grace,  in  whom  all  ill  well  shows, 
Kill  me  with  spites;  yet  we  must  not  be  foes. 


It  can  be  no  disgrace  if  it  were  knowen  that  the  killinge  of  a  rebel  were  prac- 
tised; for  you  see  that  the  lives  of  anoynted  Princes  are  daylye  sought,  and  we 
have  always  in  Ireland  geven  head  money  for  the  killinge  of  rebels,  who  are 
evermore  proclaymed  at  a  price.  So  was  the  Earle  of  Desmonde,  and  so  have 
all  rebels  been  practised  agaynst.  Notwithstandinge,  I  have  written  this  en- 
closed to  Stafford,  who  only  recommended  that  knave  to  me  upon  his  credit. 
Butt,  for  your  sealf,  von  arc  not  to  be  touched  in  the  nuttier.  And  for  me,  I 
am  more  sorrye  for  beinge  deceaved  than  for  beinge  declared  in  the  practise. 
Your  Lordship's,  ever  to  do  you  service. — Raleigh  to  Cecil,  October  1598,  Life 
of  Ralegh,  Ediuards,  Vol  II.  p.  190. 

Accordingly,  on  October  20,  [1598]  Chamberlain  writes:  .  .  .  "Some  think 
the  Lord  Montjoy  shall  be  sent  thither  deputy;  others  say  the  Earl  of  Essex 
means  to  take  it  upon  him,  and  hopes  by  his  countenance  to  quiet  that  country. 
That  this  was  more  than  a  mere  rumour  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  Montjoy  was 
actually  named  by  the  council;  but  it  is  equally  certain  that  this  was  a  mere 
blind,  a  stratagem  to  decoy  Essex  into  assuming  the  command  for  himself. 
This  can  be  proved  by  the  testimony  of  Cecil.  The  outside  world  thought  that 
the  Council  was  in  earnest  .  .  .  But  Cecil,  writing  on  the  6th  November  to  Sir 
Thomas  Edmondes,  reveals,  as  a  secret,  that  though  Montjoy  was  named,  the 
intention  was  to  send  Essex,  'my  Lord  Montjoy  is  named;  but  to  you,  in  secret 
1  sfieak  it,  not  as  a  secretary,  but  as  a  friend,  that  I  think  the  Earl  of  Essex 
shall  go  Lieutenant  of  the  Kingdom,'  " — Bacon  and  Essex,  Abbott,  p.  106. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     159 


SCENE  II. 

Nature  to  Art.  136=01. 

O  truant  Muse,  what  shall  be  thy  amends 

For  thy  neglect  of  Truth  in  beauty  dyed? 

Both  truth  and  beauty  on  my  love  depends; 

So  dost  thou  too,  and  therein  dignified. 

Make  answer,  Muse:  wilt  thou  not  haply  say 

'Truth  needs  no  colour  with  his  colour  fix'd; 

Beauty  no  pencil,  beauty's  truth  to  lay; 

But  best  is  best,  if  never  intermix'd'  ? 

Because  he  needs  no  praise,  wilt  thou  be  dumb  ? 

Excuse  not  silence  so;  for  't  lies  in  thee 

To  make  him  much  outlive  a  gilded  tomb, 

And  to  be  prais'd  of  ages  yet  to  be. 

Then  do  thy  office,  Muse;  I  teach  thee  how 

To  make  him  seem  long  hence  as  he  shows  now. 

[  Curtain. 

To  the  Queen's  birthday  of  this  year  [Nov.  17,  1598]  belongs  an  anecdote 
which  shows  what  ingenuity  Essex  displayed  in  annoying  his  rival.  As  was  the 
custom  of  the  day,  the  leading  courtiers  tilted  at  the  ring  in  honour  of  her 
Majesty,  and  each  Knight  was  required  to  appear  in  some  disguise.  It  was 
known,  however,  that  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  would  ride  in  his  own  uniform  of 
orange-tawny  medley,  trimmed  with  black  budge  of  lamb's  wool.  Essex,  to  vex 
him,  came  to  the  lists  with  a  body-guard  of  two  thousand  retainers  all  dressed 
in  orange-tawny,1  so  that  Raleigh  and  his  men  seemed  only  an  insignificant  di- 
vision of  Essex's  splendid  retinue.  —  William  Shakespeare,  A  Critical  Study, 
Geo.  Brandes,  p.  254. 

I  am  not  wize  enough  to  give  you  advise;  but  if  you  take  it  for  a  good  coun- 
cell  to  relent  towards  this  tirant,  [Essex]  you  will  repent  it  when  it  shal  be  to 
late.  His  mallice  is  fixt,  and  will  not  evaporate  by  any  your  mild  courses  .  .  . 
Lett  the  Queen  hold  hyme  while  she  hath  hyme.  Hee  will  ever  be  the  canker 
of  her  estate  and  sauftye.  Princes  are  lost  by  securetye;  and  preserved  by  pre- 
vention. I  have  seen  the  last  of  her  good  dayes,  and  all  ours,1  after  his  lib- 
ertye. — Sir  Walter  Raleigh  to  Robert  Cecil,  1601. — Life  of  Ralegh,  Edzvards, 
Vol.  II.  p.  223. 

1  Cp.  the  conjectural  1589  Dramatis  Personae  of  Hamlet,  index,  and  Raleigh  as  Malvolio, 
pp.  124,  153- 


160  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ANTI-MASQUE1  ACT  V. 

SCENE  III.     Enter,  [DISGUISED  AS  BIRDS,2]  NATURE, 
TIME,  and  THE  GODS  OF  TRUTH,  ART,  and  FOLLY. 

Truth  masked  as  The  PhoeniA",    emblem  of  Immortality. 

Time                      '  Father  Timf,                          Time. 

Art  Dsedalu,?,*                    "    Art. 

Folly         "          "  Icaru5,3        "           '    Folly. 

Nature      "  The  Crowf;,4        "           '    Nature. 

Father  TimE.  i37=cxxvn. 

[To  The  Crowe.] 

In  the  old  age  black  was  not  counted  fair, 
Or  if  it  were,  it  bore  not  beauty's  name; 
But  now  is  black  beauty's  successive  heir, 
And  beauty  slander'd  with  a  bastard  shame: 
For  since  each  hand  hath  put  on  Nature's  power, 
Fairing  the  foul  with  art's  false  borrow'd  face, 
Sweet  beauty  hath  no  name,  no  holy  bower, 
But  is  profan'd,  if  not  lives  in  disgrace. 
Therefore  my  mistress'  brows  are  raven  black, 
Her  eyes  so  suited,  and  they  mourners  seem 
At  such  who,  not  born  fair,  no  beauty  lack, 
Sland'ring  creation  with  a  false  esteem: 

Yet  so  they  mourn,  becoming  of  their  woe, 
That  every  tongue  says  beauty  should  look  so. 

1  Let  anti-masques  not  be  long;  they  have  been  commonly  of  fools,  satyrs, 
baboons,  wild  men,  antics,  beasts,  sprites,  witches,  Ethiops,  pigmies,  turquets, 
nymphs,  rustics,  Cupids,  Statuas  moving,  and  tha  like.  (>/'  .}fas(/ttcs  and  Tri- 
umphs,  /Tiuuis  J>acon. 

2 The  gods  themscK  <'s, 

Humbling  their  deities  to  love,  have  taken 
The  shapes  of  beasts  upon  them. 

ll'inlcr^s   Talc,  iv.  4. 

:;  Why,  what  a  peevish  fool  was  that  of  Crete, 
That  taught  his  sin  th^  office  of  a  fowl? 
And  yet  for  all  his  wings  the  fool  was  drown'd. 
Third  ffcnrv  I '/. ,  v.  4. 

*  In  the  Hssex  poem,  ./  Loval  Appeal  in  Courtcsv,  we  have  "Crowe."  In 
the  1609  Quarto,  Son.  cxni,  1.  12,  the  spelling  is  "Croe." 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or.    The  Enacted  Will.     161 


SCENE  III. 

ANTI-MASQUE. 

IcaruS.  i38=cxxx. 

[To  The  Crowe.] 

My  mistress'  eyes  are  nothing  like  the  sun;1 

Coral  is  far  more  red  than  her  lips'  red; 

If  snow  be  white,  why  then  her  breasts  are  dun; 

If  hairs  be  wires,  black  wires  grow  on  her  head. 

I  have  seen  roses  damask'd,  red  and  white, 

But  no  such  roses  see  I  in  her  cheeks; 

And  in  some  perfumes  is  there  more  delight 

Than  in  the  breath  that  from  my  mistress  reeks. 

I  love  to  hear  her  speak,  yet  well  I  know 

That  music  hath  a  far  more  pleasing  sound; 

I  grant  I  never  saw  a  goddess  go; 

My  mistress,  when  she  walks,  treads  on  the  ground: 

And  yet,  by  heaven,  I  think  my  love  as  rare 

As  any  she  belied  with  false  compare. 

1  It  will  be  remembered  that  a  too  near  approach  to  the  sun  caused  the  disas- 
ter in  the  Icarian  Sea. 

Samuel  Daniel,  poet  laureate  in  the  interim  succeeding  Spenser  and  prior  to 
Ben  Jonson — favoured  by  Southampton  and  a  member  of  the  Pembroke  or 
Arcadia  Coterie. — Daniel's  tragedy  of  Philotas  was  brought  before  the  Privie 
Council  as  a  treasonable  work;  and  he  had  been  summoned  before  the  Lords  to 
answer  the  charge.1  Daniel  appealed  to  the  Earl  of  Devonshire  [who  as  Lord 
Mount  joy  had  been  promoted  by  Elizabeth  for  deserting  Essex  and  Southampton 
at  the  critical  moment],2  the  appeal  greatly  disconcerted  the  Earl,  hence  the 
following  letter:3 

MY  LORD,  Understanding  your  honor  is  displeased  with  me,  it  hath  more  shak- 
en my  heart  than  I  did  think  any  fortune  could  have  done;  in  respect  I  have  not 
deserved  it,  nor  done  nor  spoken  anything,  in  this  matter  of  Philotas,  unworthy 
of  you  or  me.  And  now,  having  satisfied  my  Lord  Cranbourne,  I  crave  to  un- 
burthsn  me  of  this  imputation,  zuith  vour  honour  *  And  it  is  the  last  visit  I  will 
ever  make.  And,  therefore,  I  beseech  you  to  understand  all  the  great  error  I 
hai'c  committed.  First  I  told  the  lords,  I  had  writ  three  acts  of  this  tragedy  the 
Christmas  before  my  Lord  Essex  troubles,  as  divers  in  the  city  could  witness. 
I  said  the  Master  of  the  Revels  had  perused  it.  I  said  I  had  read  some  parts  of 

1  He  that  shall  say  that  Essex  died  not  for  treason  is  punishable. — King  James. 

2  Cp.  Lingard.         3  Cp.  Our  English  Homer,  Tkos.  IV.   White. 
*  Mountjoy  married  Lady  Rich,  sister  of  Essex. 


1 62  Shake- sp ear e  England '  s  Ulysses, 


ACT  V. 
ANTI-MASQUE. 

D&daluS.  1 39=cxxxn. 

[To  The  Crowe.] 

Thine  eyes  I  love,  and  they,  as  pitying  me, 

Knowing  thy  heart  torments  me  with  disdain, ! 

Have  put  on  black  and  loving  mourners  be, 

Looking  with  pretty  ruth  upon  my  pain. ] 

And  truly  not  the  morning  sun  of  heaven 

Better  becomes  the  grey  cheeks  of  the  east. 

Nor  that  full  star  that  tfshers  in  the  even 

Doth  half  that  glory  to  the  sober  west, 

As  those  two  mourning1  eyes  become  thy  face: 

O,  let  it  then  as  well  beseem  thy  heart 

To  mourn  for  me,  since  mourning  doth  thee  grace, 

And  suit  thy  pity  like  in  every  part. 

Then  will  I  swear  beauty  herself  is  black 
And  all  they  foul  that  thy  complexion  lack. 

1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  161. 

it  to  your  honour.  And  this  I  said,  having  none  else  of  power  to  grace  me,  now 
in  court  and  hoping  that  you,  out  of  your  knowledge  of  books  and  favour  of  let- 
ters and  me,  might  answer  them,  there  was  nothing  in  it  disagreeing,  nor  any- 
thing— as  I  protest  there  is  not — but  of  the  universal  notions  of  ambition  and 
envy,  the  perpetual  argument  of  books  and  tragedies.  1  did  not  say  you  encour- 
aged me  unto  the  presenting-  of  if.  If  I  should  I  had  been  a  villain;  for  that 
when  I  showed  it  to  your  honor,  I  was  not  resolved  to  have  had  it  acted;  nor 
should  it  have  been  had  not  my  necessities  overmastered  me.1  And,  therefore, 
I  beseech  you,  let  not  an  Earl  of  Devonshire  overthrow  what  a  Lord  Mountjoy 
hath  done  who  hath  done  me  good;  and  I  have  done  him  honour.  The  world 
must  and  shall  know  my  innocence,  whilst  I  have  a  pen  to  show  it.  For  that  I 
know  I  shall  live  inter  historiam  temporis,  as  well  as  greater  men,  I  must 
not  be  such  an  object  unto  myself  as  to  neglect  my  reputation.  And  having 
been  known  throughout  all  England  for  my  virtue,  I  will  not  leave  a  stain  of 
villainy  upon  my  name,  whatsoever  else  might 'scaps  me  unfortunately,  through 
my  indiscretion  and  misunderstanding  of  the  time.  Wherein,  good  my  Lord, 
mistake  not  myn  heart,  that  hath  been  and  is  a  sincere  honourer  of  you  and 
seeks  you  now  for  no  other  end,  but  to  clear  itself  and  to  be  held  as  I  am,  though 
I  never  come  near  you  more.  Your  honour's  poor  follower  and  faithful  servant. 

Samuel  Daniel. 

1  The  difficulty  of  unraveling  "The  Mystery  of  William  Shakespeare"  arises  from  the  fact 
that  good  men  [antagonistic  to  the  Church  of  Rome!  for  the  honor  of  the  English  Church  and 
of  English  womanhood,  took  pride  in  shielding  Elizabeth  from  the  imputation  of  the  character 
of  Gertrude  in  Hamlet.  Cp-  Cardinal  Allen's  lines  in  chapter,  Ulysses  and  The  Court  of  Eliz- 
abeth, and  note  from  Brandes  on  the  1603  Quarto  of  Hamlet,  p.  138, 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     163 


SCENE  III. 

ANTI-MASQUE. 

Father  TimE.          i4o=LXvn. 

[To  The  Crowe.] 

Ah!  wherefore  with  infection  should  he1  live, 

And  with  his  presence  grace  impiety, 

That  sin3  by  him  advantage  should  achieve 

And  lace  itself  with  his  society? 

Why  should  false  painting  imitate  his  cheek, * 

And  steal  dead  seeing  of  his  living  hue  ? 

Why  should  poor  beauty3  indirectly  seek 

Roses  of  shadow, 4  since  his5  rose  is  true  ? 

Why  should  he1  live,  now  Nature  bankrupt  is, 

Beggar'd  of  blood  to  blush  through  lively  veins? 

For  she  hath  no  exchequer  now  but  his, 

And,  proud  of  many,  lives  upon  his  gains. 

O,  him  she  stores,  to  show  what  wealth  she  had 
In  days  long  since,  before  these  last  so  bad. 

1  Dtcdcilus.         2  l'\)lly.         ;i  Dtcdalns,  psychologically  from  Act  IV. 

4  Essex  as  shown  by  the  acrostic.   Cp.  note  i,  p.  164.    5  Dicdalus,  "art  is  true." 


Philotas- Essex.      My  Lord,  you  far  mistake  me,  if  you  deem 

I  plead  for  life,  that  poor  weak  blast  of  breath, 

From  which  so  I  have  ran  with  light  esteem, 

And  so  well  have  acquainted  me  with  death: 

No,  no,  my  lords  it  is  not  that  I  fear, 

It  is  mine  honour  that  I  seek  to  clear; 

And  which,  if  my  disgraced  cause  would  let 

The  language  of  my  heart  be  understood, 

Is  all  which  I  have  ever  sought  to  get 

If  I  must  needs  be  made  the  sacrifice 

Of  envy,1  and  that  no  oblation  will 

The  wrath  of  Kings,  but  only  blood  suffice, 

Yet  let  me  have  something  left  that  is  not  ill. 

Is  there  no  way  to  get  unto  our  lives, 

1  In  a  political  sense  Essex  was  the  hero  of  the  people — "they  never  ceased  to  adore  him" 
but  the  Clown's  real  hatred  of  Essex  sprang  not  from  Envy  but  from  our  poet's  secret  contempt, 
— not  only  for  the  profligacy  of  Elizabeth,  but  for  the  plebeian1  time-servers  who  comprised  the 
personnel  of  the  Court — and  this  hatred  was  intensified  from  the  danger  of  the  true  character  of 
Elizabeth  and  her  ministers  being  immortalized  in  the  play  of  Hamlet,  Cp.  sub-notes  ^  and 
5,  p.  116,  the  Philotas-Essex  lines,  p.  165,  and  note  i,  p.  173. 

1  "Blood  is  a  beggar,"  Nash  on  Hamlet,  1589, 


164  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  V. 
ANTI-MASQUE. 

The  PkceniX.  !          141  =cxxxi. 

[To  Daedalus.] 

Thou  art  as  tyrannous,  so  as  thou  art, 
As  those  whose  beauties  proudly  make  them  cruel; 
For  well  thou  know'st  to  my  dear  doting  heart 
Thou  art  the  fairest  and  most  precious  jewel. 
Yet,  in  good  faith,  some  say  that  thee  behold, 
Thy  face  hath  not  the  power  to  make  love  groan: 
To  say  they  err,  I  dare  not  be  so  bold, 
Although  I  swear  it  to  myself  alone. 
And,  to  be  sure  that  is  not  false  I  swear, 
A  thousand  groans,  but  thinking  on  thy  face, 
One  on  another's  neck,  do  witness  bear 
Thy  black  is  fairest  in  my  judgment's  place. 
In  nothing  art  thou  black  save  in  thy  deeds, 
And  thence  this  slander,  as  I  think,  proceeds. 

1  In  Sonnets  141  and  145  the  thought  "floats  double,"  bird  and  shadou1,  and 
the  lines  refer  personally  to  Kssex  as  the  Phoenix.  Cp.  Drayton's  lines,  p.  98, 
Sidney's,  p.  120,  and  Ben  Jonson's: 

Who  would  have  thought  that  Philautia1  durst 
Or  have  usurped  noble  Storge's  name.2 

s  AVev/s,  v.  3. 


But  first  to  have  our  honour  overthrown  ?:< 

Alas!  tho'  grace  of  Kings  all  greatness  gives, 

It  cannot  give  us  virtue,  that's  our  own. 

Tho'  all  be  theirs  our  hearts  and  hands  can  do, 

Yet  that  by  which  we  do  is  only  ours. 

The  trophies  that  our  blood  erects  unto 

Their  memory  to  glorify  their  powers, 

Let  them  enjoy:*  yet  only  to  have  done 

Worthy  of  grace,  let  not  that  be  undone  ....... 

Tragedy  of  Pliilotas,    [Essex  as  Philotas],  Daniel,  1605. 

1  Character  assumed  by  Essex  in  The  Device  of  Self  -Love,  1595.     Cp.  Sub-note  i,  p.  173. 

2  The  Phoenix  was  Elizabeth's  emblem.     Cp.  Ulyssis  and  The  Court  of  Elizabeth,  index. 

3  Cp.  Peele's  lines,  p.  18.  "The  Argument,"  p.  21,  and  sub-note  2,  p.  116. 

*  ..................  The  genius  of  that  time 

Would  leave  to  her  [Elizabeth]  the  glory  in  that  kind, 
And  that  the  utmost  powers  of  English  rhyme 
Should  be  ivithin  her  peaceful  reign  confined.1 

Dedication,  Tragedy  of  Philotas,  Daniel,  1605. 
1  Shake-speare  the  Dramatist  died  Feby.  25th,  1601.    Shakspere  the  Player.  April  23rd.  1616. 


Loves  Labor  s   Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     165 


SCENE  III. 

ANTI-MASQUE. 

Father  TimE.  i42=LXvm. 

[To  The  Phcenix.] 

Thus  is  his1  cheek  the  map  of  days  outworn, 
When  beauty  liv'd  and  died  as  flowers  do  now, 
Before  these  bastard  signs  of  fair  were  borne, 
Or  durst  inhabit  on  a  living  brow;2 
Before  the  golden  tresses  of  the  dead, 
The  right  of  sepulchres,  were  shorn  away, 
To  live  a  second  life  on  second  head; 
Ere  beauty's  dead  fleece  made  another  gay:2 
In  him1  those  holy  antique  hours  are  seen. 
Without  all  ornament,  itself  and  true, 
Making  no  summer  of  another's  green, 
Robbing  no  old  to  dress  his  beauty  new;8 
And  him1  as  for  a  map  doth  Nature  store, 
To  show  false  art  what  beauty  was  of  vore. 4 

1  Dicdalus.          2  Essex  as  shown  by  the  acrostic. 

*  Envious  Time  in  his  worship  of  D<cdalus,  attempts  to  belittle  Mother  Na- 
ture by  accusing  her  of  plagarism,  i.  e.,  imitating  the  Cretan  labyrinth  of  Dic- 
dalits  in  the  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets. 

4  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 


Philotas-Essex,  whatsoever  gloss  you  lay 

Upon  your  rotten  cause,  it  is  in  vain; 

Your  pride,  your  carriage,  ever  did  bewray 

Your  discontent,  your  malice,  and  disdain: 

You  cannot  palliate  mischief,  but  it  will 

Through  all  the  fairest  coverings  of  deceit 

Be  always  seen.      We  know  those  streams  of  ill1 

Flow'd  from  that  head,  that  fed  them  with  conceit. 

Let  not  my  one  day's  error52  make  you  tell, 

That  all  my  life-time  I  did  never  well; 

It  is  unjust  to  join  to  a  present  fact3 
More  of  time  past,1  than  it  hath  ever  had 
Before  to  do  withal,  as  if  it  lack'd 
Sufficient  matter  elss  to  make  it  bad. 
I  do  confess  indeed  I've  wrote  something.1 

1  The  Play  of  Hamlet.     Cp.  date  of  Hamlet,  p.  114,  and  sub-notes  2  and  5,  p.  116. 

2  The  Uprising,  Febry.  8th.  1601. 


1 66  Shake-speare  England * s  Ulysses, 


ACT  V. 
ANTI-MASQUE. 

D&daluS.  i43=xxxvin. 

[To  The  Crowe.] 

How  can  my  Muse  want  subject  to  invent, 

While  thou  dost  breathe,  that  pour'st  into  my  verse 

Thine  own  sweet  argument,  too  excellent 

For  every  vulgar  paper  to  rehearse? 

O,  give  thyself  the  thanks,  if  aught  in  me 

Worthy  perusal  stand  against  thy  sight; 

For  who's  so  dumb  that  cannot  write  to  thee,  ) 

When  thou  thyself  dost  give  invention  light  ?  j  1 

Be  thou  the  tenth  Muse,  ten  times  more  in  worth 

Than  those  old  nine  which  rhymers  invocate; 

And  he  that  calls  on  thee,  let  him  bring  forth 

Eternal  numbers  to  outlive  long  date. 

If  my  slight  Muse  do  please  these  curious  days, 
The  pain  be  mine,  but  thine  shall  be  the  praise. 

1  New  discoveries  must  be  sought  from  the  light  of  Nature,  not  fetched  back 
out  of  the  darkness  of  antiquity. — Nov.   Org.  cxxn. 

Against  this  title  of  the  Son  of  Jove,1 

And  that  not  of  the  King  but  to  the  King 

1  freely  used  these  words  out  of  my  love.2 

And  thereby  hath  that  dangerous  liberty 

Of  speaking  truth,  with  truth  on  former  grace, 

Betray'd  my  meaning  into  enmity, 

And  drawn  on  argument  of  my  disgrace:3 

So  that  I  see,  tho'  I  speak  iu hat  /  'ought, 

It  was  not  in  the  manner  as  I  ought.1 

Tragedy  of  Phtiotas,  [Essex  as  Philotas]  Daniel,  1605. 

1  I  remember,  the  players  have  often  mentioned  it  as  an  honour  to  Shakespeare,  that  in  his 
writing  [whatsoever  he  penned]  he  never  blotted  out  a  line,  my  answer  hath  been,  would  In- 
had  blotted  a  thousand,  which  they  thought  a  malevolent  speech.     I  had  not  told  posterity 
this,  but  for  their  ignorance,  who  chose  that  circumstance  to  commend  their  friend  by,  rc//r;r- 
in  he  most  faulted, — De  Shakespeare  nostrati,  Ben  Jonson,  1641. 

2  Essex,  if  he  did  not  despise  the  Queen,  at  least  did  not  respect  her.     He  boasts  to  Fran- 
cis Bacon  that  he  knows  how  to  manage  her,  and  to  Anthony  Bacon,  he  avows  his  intention  of 

doing  the  Queen  good  against  her  will In  the  passage  in  which  he  describes  to  Anthony 

Bacon  the  necessity  for  thus  "doing  the  Queen  good"  he  compares  himself  to   "a  waterman 
looking  oneway  and  rowing  the  other."— July  1596,  Birch  LCp.  Bacon  and  Essex,  Abbott,  pp. 
243  and  244]. 

8  Cp.  Fulke  Greville's  account  of  Essex,  p.  136. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     167 


SCENE  III. 

ANTI-MASQUE. 

IcarnS.  144 — =xxx. 

[To  The  Phoenix.] 

When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought 

I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past, 

I  sigh  the  lack  of  many  a  thing  I  sought, 

And  with  old  woes  new  wail  my  dear  time's  waste: 

'Then  can  I  drown  an  eye,  unus'd  to  flow, 

For  precious  friends  hid  in  death's  dateless  night, 

And  weep  afresh  love's  long  since  cancell'd  woe, 

And  moan  th'  expense  of  many  a  vanish'd  sight: 

Then  can  I  grieve  at  grievances  foregone, 

And  heavily  from  woe  to  woe  tell  o'er 

The  sad  account  of  fore-bemoaned  moan, 

Which  I  new  pay  as  if  not  paid  before. 

But  if  the  while  I  think  on  thee,  dear  friend, 
All  losses  are  restor'd,  and  sorrows  end. 

1  Essex  as  the  Phoenix.     Cp.  note  i,  p.  164,  also  note  5,  p.  154. 


But  I  must  give  this  testimony  to  my  Lord  Cecil,  that  one  time  in  his  house 
at  the  Savoy  he  dealt  with  me  directly,  and  said  to  me,  Cousin,  I  hear  it,  but 
I  believe  it  not,  that  vou  should  do  some  ill  office  to  my  Lord  of  Essex ;l  for 
my  part  [said  he]  I  am  merely  passive  and  not  active  in  this  action,  I  follow 
the  Queen  and  that  heavily,  and  I  lead  her  not,  .  .  .  and  the  same  course  I 
would  wish  you  [Francis]  to  take;  whereupon  I  satisfied  him  how  far  I  was 
from  any  such  mind. — From  Bacon's  Apology  Concerning  Essex,  1604. 

According  to  Macaulay  in  his  famous  Essay,  Bacon  did  all  in  his  power  to 
dissuade  the  Earl  of  Essex  from  accepting  the  government  of  Ireland,  and  so 
it  is  stated  in  the  Apology,  which  in  1604  Bacon  addressed  to  Devonshire.  Un- 
fortunately every  word  of  this  apology  can  be  shozvn  to  be  untrue.  Following 
the  example  of  Cicero  and  Pliny,  Bacon  kept  copies  of  all  his  important  letters, 
and  in  his  works  we  may  read  a  correspondence  with  Essex  extending  over  the 
years  1596,  1597,  1598  and  1599  zchfch  gii'es  the  lie  to  everything  he  said  in 
1604.  —  The  Mystery  of  William  Shakespeare,  Judge  Webb,  pp.  277,  278. 

1  Most  likely  confirming  the  Queen's  belief.  Linsistent  because  introspective]  that  Hamlet 
was  a  satire  on  the  court,  the  uncertainty  of  this  fact  being  the  bone  of  contentionjaetween 
Essex  and  the  Queen.  Cp.  the  Philotas-Essex  lines,  p.  166,  and  Fulke  Greville's  piercing 
eyes  of  an  atturnies  office,"  p.  136. 


1 68  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ACT  V. 
ANTI-MASQUE. 

The  CroivE.  i45=xix. 

[To  Time.] 

Devouring  Time,  blunt  thou  the  lion's  paws, 
And  make  the  earth  devour  her  own  sweet  brood; 
Pluck  the  keen  teeth  from  the  fierce  tiger's  jaws, 
And  burn  the  long-liv'd  phoenix1  in  her  blood; 
Make  glad  and  sorry  seasons  as  thou  fleet'st, 
And  do  whate'er  thou  wilt,  swift-footed  Time, 
To  the  wide  world  and  all  her  fading  sweets; 
But  I  forbid  thee  one  most  heinous  crime: 
O,  carve  not  with  thy  hours  my  love's2  fair  brow, 
Nor  draw  no  lines  there  with  thine  antique  pen; 
Him2  in  thy  course  untainted8  do,  allow 
For  beauty's  pattern  to  succeeding  men.4 

Yet  do  thy  worst,  old  Time:  despite  thy  wrong, 
My  love  shall  in  my  verse  ever  live  young.' 

[_  Curtain. 

1  Generalizing. 

2  Essex  as  the  Phoenix,  shown  by  the  acrostic,  and  confirmed  by  1.  14.      Cp. 
note  i,  p.  164,  and  note  4,  p.  163. 

3  Cp.  note  3,  p.  165. 

4  So  shall  the  world  commend  a  sweet  conceipte, 
And  humble  fayth  on  heavenly  honour  waite. 
A  Loyal  Appeal  in  Coitrtesv,  A.v.sv.v,   1601. 

But  if  Shakespeare's  colleagues,  acting  Shakespeare's  l'la)s,  gave  umbrage 
to  Essex's  political  opponents  in  Henry  //'.,  applauded  his  ambition  in  Henry 
J-\,  and  were  accessories  to  his  disloyalty  in  Richard  //.,  there  were  playwrights 
and  players  ready  enough  to  back  the  winning  side.      Henslowe,  an  apparent 
time-server,  commissioned  Dekker  to  re-write  his  Phaethon1  for  presentation  be- 
fore the  Court    [1600],   with,  it  is  fair  to  suppose,  a  greater  insistence  on  the 
presumption    and    catastrophe  of  the   'Suns  Darling;'1  and  Ban  Jonson,    in  his 
Cynthia's  Revels  [1600],  put  forth  two  censorious  allusions  to  Essex's  conduct. 
-  Xlutkespeare' s  Poems,   Geo.    M'yndham,  p.  xxxm. 
1  Essex,  the  fallen  favorite. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     169 


SCENE  IV. 

Enter  NATURE  and  THE  GODS  OF  TRUTH  and  ART. 
Nature  to  Truth.         i46=cvm. 

What  's  in  the  brain  that  ink  may  character, 
Which  hath  not  figur'd  to  thee  my  true  spirit  ? 
\Vhat  's  new  to  speak,  what  now  to  register, 
That  may  express  my  love  or  thy  dear  merit? 
Nothing,  sweet  boy;  but  yet,  like  prayers  divine, 
I  must  each  day  say  o'er  the  very  same, 
Counting  no  old  thing  old,  thou  mine,  I  thine, 
E'en  as  when  first  I  hallow'd  thy  fair  name.1 
So  that  eternal  love  in  love's  fresh  case 
Weighs  not  the  dust  and  injury  of  age, 
Nor  gives  to  necessary  wrinkles  place, 
But  makes  antiquity  for  aye  his  page, 

Finding  the  first  conceit  of  love  there  bred 
Where  time  and  outward  form  would  show  it  dead. 

1  As  Rarity  in  Act  I.     Cp.  Dramatis  Personae,  p.  24. 

It  has,  too,  been  argued  ingeniously,  if  not  convincingly,  that  he  [Shake- 
speare] was  the  author  of  the  somewhat  clumsy  sonnet  l  Phaeton1  to  his  friend 
Florio, '  which  prefaced  in  i5gi'2  Florio's  'Second  Frutes,'  a  series  of  Italian- 
English  dialogues  for  students. 

Sweet  friend  whose  name  agrees  with  thy  increase, 
How  fit  arrival  art  thou  of  the  spring! 
For  when  each  branch  hath  left  his  flourishing, 
And  green-locked  Summer's  shady  pleasure  cease: 
She  makes  the  Winter's  storms  repose  in  peace, 
And  spends  her  franchise  on  each  living  thing: 
The  daisies  sprout,  the  little  birds  do  sing, 
Herbs,  gums,  and  plants  do  vaunt  of  their  release. 
So  when  that  all  our  English  Wits  lay  dead, 
[Except  the  laurel  that  is  ever  green] 
Thou  with  thy  Fruit  our  barrenness  o'erspread 
And  set  thy  flower y  pleasance  to  be  seen. 
Such  fruits,  such  flow'rets  of  mortality 
Were  ne'er  before  brought  out  of  Italy. 

Life  of  Shakespeare,  Sidney  Lee,  p.  84. 

1  Essex,  the  fallen  favorite.    Cp.  "The  Argument,"  p.  21,  and  the  Phi  lotas-Essex  lines,  p.  165. 
a  This,  in  a  way,  confirms  Nash's  date  of  Hamlet.     Cp.  note,  p.  114. 


170  Shake-speare  England 's   Ulysses, 


ACT  V. 

Truth  to  Nature.     i47=cxxn. 

Thy  gift,  thy  tables,   are  within  my  brain 
Full  character'd  with  lasting  memory, 
Which  shall  above  that  idle  rank  remain 
Beyond  all  date,  e'en  to  eternity; 
Or  at  the  least,  so  long  as  brain  and  heart 
Have  faculty  by  Nature1  to  subsist; 
Till  each  to  raz'd  oblivion  yield  his  part 
Of  thee,  thy  record  never  can  be  miss'd. 
That  poor  retention  could  not  so  much  hold, 
Nor  need  I  tallies  thy  dear  love  to   score; 
Therefore  to  give  them  from  me  was  I  bold, 
To  trust  those  tables  that  receive  thee  more: 

To  keep  an  adjunct  to  remember  thee 

Were  to  import  forgetfulness  in  me. 

1  Cp.  note  2,  p.  118. 

Seated  between  the  Old  World  and  the  New, 
A  land  there  is  no  other  land  may  touch, 
Where  reigns  a  Queen  in  peace  and  honor  true; 
Stories  or  fables  do  describe  no  such. 
Never  did  Atlas  such  a  burthen  bear, 
As  she,  in  holding  up  the  world  opprest; 
Supplying  with  her  virtue,  every  where, 
Weakness  of  friends,  errors  of  servants  best.1 
No  nation  breeds  a  warmer  blow  for  war, 
And  yet  she  calms  them  with  her  majesty; 
No  age  hath  ever  wit  refined  so  far, 
And  yet  she  calms  them  by  her  policy. 
To  her  thy  son  must  make  his  sacrifice, 
If  he  will  have  the  morning  of  his  eyes. 

From  the  Device  of  Self-Love,  Essex,  1595. 

Lives  of  the  Earls  of  Essex,  Devereux,  Vol.  II.  p.  592. 

Essex  is  preparing  to  receive  the  Queen  at  York  House  in  the  Strand  with  a 

grand  entertainment  and  a  sumptuous  Masque  given  in  her  honor;  for  which 

Bacon  is  composing  characters  and  words.     The  play  being  given  in  Essex's 

1  Cp.  sub-notes  2  and  5,  p.  116. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     171 

SCENE  IV. 

Art  to  Truth.  i48=LXXxi. 

Or  I  shall  live  your  epitaph  to  make, 
Or  you  survive  when  I  in  earth  am  rotten; 
From  hence  your  memory,  death  cannot  take, 
Although  in  me  each  part  will  be  forgotten. 
Your  name  from  hence  immortal  life  shall  have, 
Though  I,  once  gone,  to  all  the  world  must  die; 
The  earth  can  yield  me  but  a  common  grave, 
When  you  entombed  in  men's  eyes  shall  lie.1 
Your  monument  shall  be  my  gentle  verse, 
Which  eyes  not  yet  created  shall  o'er-read, 
And  tongues  to  be,  your  being  shall  rehearse, 
When  all  the  breathers  of  this  world  are  dead; 
You  still  shall  live — such  virtue  hath  my  pen- 
Where  breath  most  breathes,  e'en  in  the  mouths  of 
men. ! 

1  "The  Sonnets  do  not  speak  to  beings  of  flesh  and  blood."    Cp.  note  2,  p.  57. 


name,  here  are  the  means  for  a  striking  and  conspicuous  compliment  to  Raleigh. 
Bacon  frames  a  scene  of  the  masque  in  happy  allusion  to  the  Amazon  and  to 
Raleigh's  voyage.  Essex  has  not  the  grace  to  let  it  stand.  The  glory  of  Ral- 
eigh breaks  his  rest,  for  he  himself  aspires  to  be  all  that  Raleigh  is,  — renowned 
in  war  even  more  than  in  letters  and  in  courts.  He  strikes  his  pen  through 
Bacon"1  s  lines,  ivhich  drop  from  the  acted  scene  and  from  the  printed  mas- 
que. A  contemporary  copy  of  this  suppressed  part  remains  in  the  State  Pa- 
per's Office. — Personal  History  of  Lord  Bacon,  IV.  Hepivorth  Dixon,  p.  74. 

At  Cadiz  it  appears  that  Essex  and  the  two  Howards  were  the  only  persons 
who  refrained  from  pillage,  and  who  considered  that  they  had  some  higher 

duties  to  perform  than  the  enrichment  of  themselves Essex  took  for  his 

share  the  valuable  library  of  Jerome  Osorius,  formerly  Bishop  of  Algarve,  a 
large  part  of  which  he  subsequently  presented  to  the  Bodleian  Library,  at  Ox- 
ford.— Lives  of  The  Earls  of  Essex,  Devereux,  Vol.  I.  pp.  369,  373. 

In  the  Bodleian  Library  there  is  a  copy  of  the  Aldine  edition  of  Ovid's 
"Metamorphoses"  [1502]  and  on  the  title  is  the  signature  "Wm.  She.,"  which 
experts  have  declared— not  quite  conclusively— to  be  a  genuine  autograph  of 
the  poet. — Life  of  Shakespeare,  Sidney  Lee,  p.  15. 


72  Shake-speare  England ' s    Ulysses, 


ACT  V. 


Truth  to  Art.  i49=xxxi. 

Thy  bosom  is  endeared  with  all  hearts, 
Which  I  by  lacking  have  supposed  dead, ' 
And  there  reigns  Love  and  all  Love's  loving  parts. 
And  all  those  friends  which  I  thought  buried. * 
How  many  a  holy  and  obsequious  tear 
Hath  dear  religious  love  stol'n  from  mine  eye 
*As  interest  of  the  dead,  wThich  now  appear 
But  things  remov'd  that  hidden  in  thee  lie. 
Thou  art  the  grave  where  buried  Love  doth  live,  ~ 
Hung  with  the  trophies  of  my  lovers  gone, 
Who  all  their  parts  of  me  to  thee  did  give; 
That  due  of  many,  now  is  thine  alone: 
Their  images  I  lov'd  I  view  in  thee, 
And  thou,  all  they,  hast  all  the  all  of  me. 


1  Cp.  Son.  125-0x11.  11.  3,  12. 

2  Psychologically  Lore  is  the  great-great-grand  father  of  Art.     Cp.  Dramatis 
Personae  p.  24. 

I  would  remind  the  reader  of  that  fragment  of  a  Masque  [written  about 
1594,  1595],  of  which  an  account  is  given  in  Mr.  Spedding's  Letters  and  Life 
of  Bacon  [Vol.  I.,  pp.  386,  391],  where  Bacon's  prose  breaks  into  fourteen 
lines1  of  good  Shake-spearian  blank  versa;  for  although  the  Masque  has  been 
usually  attributed  to  Essex,  and  is  not,  perhaps,  absolutely  known  to  be  Ba- 
con's work,  yet  it  is  pretty  clear  from  what  Mr.  Spedding  writes  concerning  it 
that  he  believed  that  Bacon  wrote  it  for  Essex  [and  of  this  I  have  not  the  least 
doubt],  for  he  says,  "if  it  be  quite  certain  that  it  was  the  Earl's  own  composi- 
tion, his  style  in  things  of  this  kind  must  have  been  so  like  Bacon's  that  I  for 
my  part  should  despair  of  distinguishing  their  several  work  by  examination  of 
the  workmanship."  And  he  clearly  shows  elsewhere  that  Bacon  was  in  the 
habit  of  drafting  such  papers  for  Essex,  and  admits  that  it  is  proved  that  Essex's 
Device  of  Self -Lore  was  written  by  Bacon.  —  The  Author shi-p  of  Shakespeare^ 

Holmes,  Vol.  II.  p.  613. 
1  CP.  p.  170. 


Love  s  Labor  s  Won;  Or,    The  Enacted  Will.     173 


SCENE  IV. 

Nature  to  Art.  i5o=LV. 

Not  marble,  nor  the  gilded  monuments 
Of  princes,  shall  outlive  this  powerful  rhyme; 
But  you  shall  shine  more  bright  in  these  contents 
Than  unswept  stone  besmear'd  with  sluttish  Time. T 
When  wasteful  war  shall  statues  overturn, 
And  broils  root  out  the  work  of  masonry, 
Nor  Mars  his  sword  nor  war's  quick  fire  shall  burn 
The  living  record  of  your  memory. } 
'Gainst  death  and  all-oblivious  enmity 
Shall  you  pace  forth;  your  praise  shall  still  find  room, 
E'en  in  the  eyes  of  all  posterity 
That  wrear  this  world  out  to  the  ending  doom. J 
So,  till  the  judgment  that  yourself  arise, 
You  live  in  this,  and  dwell  in  lovers'  eyes.2 

[  Curtain. 


1  The  monuments  of  wit  survive  the  monuments  of  power;  the  verses  of  a  poet 
endure  without  a  syllable  lost,  while  states  and  empires  pass  many  periods. 
Let  him  [Essex1]  not  think  he  shall  descend,  for  he  is  now  upon  a  hill  as  a  ship 
is  mounted  upon  the  ridge  of  a  wave;  but  that  hill  of  the  Muses  is  above  tem- 
pests, always  clear  and  calm;  a  hill  of  the  goodliest  discovery  that  man  can  have, 
being  a  prospect  upon  all  the  errors  and  wanderings  of  the  present  and  former 
times.      Yea  in  some  cliff   [?]    it  leadeth  tha  eye  beyond  the  horizon  of  time, 
and  givethno  obscure  divinations  of  times  to  come. — From  the  Device  of  Self- 
Loc'e*  Essex,  1595. — Bacon  and  Essex,  Abbot  I,  p.  60. 

2  Cp.  italicized  lines  in  sub-note  i,  p.  117  and  the  Phoenix's  lines  to  Mother 
Nature,  pp.  104-107. 

1  It  is  of  course  Essex  who  is  intended  to  speak  through  the  Squire,  and  to  assure  the  Queen 
that  for  her  sake  he  renounces  the  works  of  Philautia.—  Bacon  and  Essex,  Abbott,  p.  61, 

2  Cp.  Judge  Holmes'  note,  p.  172. 


1 74  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


THE    EPILOGUE. 

Spoken  by  Folly. 
I5I=CLIII.        I52=CLIV. 

Cupid  laid  by  his  brand,  and  fell  asleep: 
A  maid  of  Dian's  this  advantage  found, 
And  his  love-kindling  fire  did  quickly  steep 
In  a  cold  valley-fountain  of  that  ground; 
Which  borrow'd  from  this  holy  fire  of  love 
A  dateless  lively  heat,  still  to  endure, 
And  grew  a  seething  bath,  which  yet  men  prove 
Against  strange  maladies  a  sovereign  cure. 
But  at  my  mistress'  eye  Love's  brand  new-fir'd, 
The  boy  for  trial  needs  would  touch  my  breast; 
I,  sick  withal,  the  help  of  bath  desir'd, 
And  thither  hied,  a  sad  distemper'd  guest. 
But  found  no  cure:  the  bath  for  my  help  lies 
Where  Cupid  got  new  fire — my  mistress'  eyes. 
The  little  Love-God  lying  once  asleep. 
Laid  by  his  side  his  heart-inflaming  brand, 
Whilst  many  nymphs  that  vow'd  chaste  life  to  keep, 
Came  tripping  by;  but  in  her  maiden  hand 
The  fairest  votary  took  up  that  fire 
Which  many  legions  of  true  hearts  had  warm'd; 
And  so  the  general  of  hot  desire 
Was  sleeping  by  a  virgin  hand  disarm 'd. 
This  brand  she  quenched  in  a  cool  well  by, 
Which  from  Love's  fire  took  heat  perpetual, 
Growing  a  bath  and  healthful  remedy 
For  men  diseas'd;  but  I,  my  mistress'  thrall, 
Came  there  for  cure,  and  this  by  that  I  prove, 
Love's  fire  heats  water,  water  cools  not  love. 

FINIS, 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  HAMLET. 


I  come  no  more  to  make  you  laugh:  things  now, 
That  bear  a  weighty  and  a  serious  brow, 
Sad,  high,  and  working,  full  of  state  and  woe 
We  now  present. 

Prologue,  Henry  VI IL 


Slander  lives  upon  succession, 
For  ever  housed  where  it  gets  possession. 
Comedy  oj  Errors,  in.  i. 

A  kino-, 

Upon  whose  property  and  most  dear  life 
A  damn'd  defeat  was  made. 

Hamlet,  n.  2. 

It  is  the  cause,  it  is  the  cause,  my  soul, 
Let  me  not  name  it  to  you,  you  chaste  stars. 

Othello,  v.  2, 


176 


LEYCESTERS 

Common-wealth: 

CONCEIVED,   SPOKEN 

AND   PUBLISHED   WITH 

most  earnest  protestation  of 

all  Dutifull  good  will  and  affec- 
tion towards  this  Realm,  for 

whose  good  onely,  it  is  made 
common  to  many. 


Job  the  20.  verse  the  27. 

The  Heavens  shall  reveale  his  iniquity,  and  the 
Earth  shall  rise  up  against  him. 


Published  Antwerp,  1584,  London,  June  25,  1585,  Paris,  1585,  Naples,  [Latin] 
1585,  Reprinted,  1641  /  Suppressed  by  Elizabeth,  Aug.  1585. 

1  Across  the  title  page  of  my  1641  Copy,  is  inscribed;  "Written  by  Parsons  or  by  memory 
and  help  of  Cecil  L.  Burleigh." 


12 


LEYCESTER'S  COMMONWEALTH,  1585. 

He  took  my  father  grossly,  full  of  bread, 
With  all  his  crimes  broad  blown,  as  flush  as  May. ' 

Hamlet,  HI.  3,  [1589]. 

Gentleman.  T  AM  not  ignorant  how  that  misery  procu- 
L  reth  amity,  and  the  opinion  of  calamity, 
Misery  mov-  moveth  affection  of  mercy  and  compassion, 
eth  mercy.  even  towards  the  wicked :  the  better  fortune 
alwayes  is  subject  to  envy,  and  hee  that  suf- 
fereth,  is  thought  to  have  the  better  cause, 
my  experience  of  the  divers  raignes  and  pro- 
ceedings of  King  Edward,  Queen  Mary,  and 
of  this  our  most  gratious  soveraigne  hath 
taught  mee  not  a  little,  touching  the  sequell 
of  these  affaires.  And  finally,  [my  good 
friends]  I  must  tell  you  plaine  [quoth  hee; 
and  this  hee  spake  with  great  asseveration] 
that  I  could  wish  with  all  my  heart,  that 
either  these  differences  were  not  among  us  at 
all,  or  els  that  they  were  so  temperatly  on  all 
parts  pursued:  as  the  Common-state  of  our 
Countrey,  the  blessed  raigne  of  her  Majesty, 
and  the  common  cause  of  true  religion,  were 
not  endangered  thereby.  But  now:  and 
there  hee  brake  of,  and  turned  aside. 

1  Leicester  died  Sept.  4th,  1588,  supposedly  poisoned.  Cp.  note  on  the  first 
Quarto  of  Hamlet,  p.  138. 

"The  dominant  note  in  the  play  is  Hamlet's  veneration  for  the  memory  of 
his  father." — Sir  Henry  Irving. 

178 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet. 


179 


The  nature 
and  practize 
of  the  Guin- 
eans. 


The  Lawyer  seeing  him  hold  his  peace  Lawyer. 
and  depart,  hee  stepped  after  him,  and  tak- 
ing him  by  the  gowne  said  merrily :  Sir,  all  men 
are  not  of  your  complexion,  some  are  of  quick- 
er and  more  stirring  Spirits,  and  doe  love  to 
fish  in  water  that  is  troubled,  for  that  they 
doe  participate  the  Blacke-moores  humour, 
that  dwell  in  Guinea  [whereof  I  suppose  you 
have  heard  and  scene  also  some  in  this  Land] 
whose  exercise  at  home  is  [as  some  write] 
the  one  to  hunt,  catch,  and  sell  the  other, 
and  alwayes  the  stronger  to  make  money  of 
the  weaker  for  the  time.  But  now  if  in  Eng- 
land vtt  should  live  in  peace  and  unity  of  the 
state,  as  they  doe  in  Germany,  notwithstand- 
ing their  differences  of  Religion,  and  that  the 
one  should  not  pray  upon  the  other:  then 
should  the  great  Fawcons  for  the  field  [I 
meane  the  favorites  of  the  time]  faile  where- 
on to  feed,  which  were  an  inconvenience  as 
you  know. 

Truly  Sir,  said  the  Gentleman,  I  thinke  Gentleman. 
you  rove  nearer  the  marke  then  you  weene: 
for  if  I  bee  not  deceived  the  very  ground  of 
much  of  these  broiles  whereof  wee  talke,  is 
but  a  very  pray:  not,  in  the  minds  of  the 
Prince  or  state  [whose  intentions  no  doubt 
bee  most  just  and  holy]  but  in  the  greedy 
imagination  and  subtile  conceipt  of  him, 
who  at  this  present  in  respect  of  our  sinnes, 
is  permitted  by  God,  to  tyrannize  both 
Prince  and  state:  and  being  himself  of  no  The  Tyrant 


i8o 


Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


Three  differ- 
ences of  re- 
ligion in  Eng- 
land. 


of  English  religion,  feedeth  notwithstanding  upon  our 
differences  in  religion,  to  the  fatting  of  him- 
selfe  and  ruine  of  the  Realme.  For  where- 
as by  the  common  distinction  now  received 
in  speech,  there  are  three  notable  differences 
of  religion  in  the  Land,  the  two  extreames, 
whereof  are  the  Papist  and  the  Puritan, 
and  the  religious  Protestant  obtaining  the 
meane:  this  fellow  being  of  neither,  maketh 
his  gaine  of  all:  and  as  hee  seeketh  a  King- 
dome  by  the  one  extreame,  and  spoile  by 
the  other:  so  hee  useth  the  authority  of  the 
third,  to  compasse  the  first  two,  and  the 
counter-mine  of  each  one,  to  the  overthrow 
of  all  three. 

To  this  I  answered:  In  good  sooth  Sir, 
I  see  now  where  you  are:  you  are  fallen  into 
the  common  place  of  all  our  ordinary  talke 
and  conference  in  the  university :  for  I  know 
that  you  meane  my  L.  of  Leicester, 1  who  is 
the  subject  of  all  pleasant  discourses  at  this 
day  throughout  the  Realme. 

Gentleman.  Not  so  pleasant  as  pittifull,  answered 

the  Gentleman,  if  all  matters  and  circum- 
stances were  well  considered,  except  any 
man  take  pleasure  to  jeast  at  our  owne  mis- 
eries, which  are  like  to  bee  greater  by  his 
iniquity  [if  God  avert  it  not]  then  by  all  the 
wickednesse  of  England  besides:  hee  being 
the  man  that  by  all  probability,  is  like  to 
bee  the  bane  and  fatall  destiny  of  our  state, 

^  Stepfather  of  Hamlet-Essex.     Cp.  note  i,  p.  178,  and  note  i,  p.  186, 


Scholar. 


The  Earle  of 
Leycester. 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet. 


181 


with  the  eversion  of  true  religion,  whereof 
by  indirect  meanes,  hee  is  the  greatest  en- 
emy that  the  Land  doth  nourish. 

Leicester  s  Common-wealth,  pp.  8,  9,  10. 

You  know  the  Beares  love,  said  'the 
Gentleman,  which  is  all  for  his  owne  paunch, 
and  so  this  Beare-whelp,  turneth  all  to  his 
owne  commodity,  and  for  greedines  thereof, 
will  overturne  all  if  hee  bee  not  stopped  or 

mouzeled  in  time And  surely  unto 

mee  it  is  a  strange  speculation,  whereof  I 
cannot  pick  out  the  reason  [but  onely  that 
I  doe  attribute  it  to  Gods  punishment  for 
our  sinnes]  that  in  so  wise  and  vigilant  a 
state  as  ours  is,  and  in  a  Countrey  so  well 
acquainted  and  beaten  with  such  dangers:  a 
man  of  such  a  spirit  as  hee  is  knowne  to  bee, 
of  so  extreame  ambition,  pride,  falshood  and 
trechery:  so  borne,  so  bred  up,  so  nooseled 
in  treason  from  his  infancy,  decended  of  a 
tribe  of  traytors,  and  fleshed  in  conspiracy 
against  the  Royall  bloud  of  King  Henries 
children  in  his  tender  yeares,  and  exercised 
ever  since  in  driftes  against  the  same,  by 
the  bloud  and  ruine  of  divers  others:  a  man 
so  well  knowen  to  beare  secret  malice  against 
her  Majesty,  for  causes  irreconcileable,  and 
most  deadly  rancour  against  the  best  and 
wisest  Councellours  of  her  highnesse:  that 
such  a  one  [I  say  so  hatefull]  to  God  and 
man,  and  so  markeable  to  the  simplest  sub- 
ject of  this  Land  by  the  publique  insignes  of 


Gentleman. 


A    strange 
speculation. 


182 


Shake-spectre  England 's  Ulysses, 


Lawyer. 


Gentleman. 


The  Law  a- 
gainst  talk- 
ing. 


his  tyrannous  purpose,  should  bee  suffered 
so  many  yeares  without  check,  to  aspire  to 
tyranny  by  most  manifest  waves,  and  to  pos- 
sesse  himselfe  [as  now  he  hath  done]  of  Court 
Councell,  and  Countrey,  without  controle- 
ment:  so  that  nothing  wanteth  to  him  but 
onely  his  pleasure,  and  the  day  already  con- 
ceived in  his  mind  to  dispose  as  hee  list,  both 
of  Prince,  Crowne,  Realme,  and  Religion. 
Leyccster  s  Common-wealth^  p.  n. 

After  the  Gentleman  had  said  this,  the 
Lawyer  stood  still,  somewhat  smiling  to  him- 
selfe, and  looking  round  about  him,  as  though 
hee  had  been  half  afeard,  and  then  said.  My 
masters,  doe  you  read  over  or  study  the  stat- 
utes that  come  fourth  ?  have  you  not  heard  of 
the  proviso  made  in  the  last  Parliament  for 
punishment  of  those  who  speake  so  broad  of 
such  men  as  my  L.  of  Leicester  is  ? 

Yes,  said  the  Gentleman,  I  have  heard 
how  that  my  L.  of  Leycester  was  very  care- 
full  and  diligent  at  that  time  to  have  such  a 
Law  to  passe  against  talkers:  hoping  [be- 
like] that  his  L.  under  that  generall  restraint 
might  lie  the  more  quietly  in  harbour  from 
the  tempest  of  mens  tongues,  which  tatled 
busily  at  that  time,  of  divers  his  Lordships 
actions  and  affaires,  which  perhaps  himselfe 
would  have  wished  to  passe  with  more  se- 
cresie.  As  of  his  discontentment  and  prep- 
aration to  rebellion :  .  .  .  of  his  disgrace  and 
checks  received  in  Court:  of  the  fresh  death  of 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet. 


183 


the  noble  Earle  of  Essex:1  and  of  this  mans 
hasty  snatching  up  of  the  widdow, 2  whom  he 
sent  up  and  downe  the  countrey  from  house 
to  house  by  privy  wayes,  thereby  to  avoid 
the  sight  and  knowledge  of  the  Queenes 
Majesty.  And  albeit  hee  had  not  onely  used 
her  at  his  good  liking  before,  for  satisfying 
of  his  owne  lust,  but  also  married  and  re- 
married her  for  contentation  of  her  friends: 
yet  denied  hee  the  same,  by  solemne  oath  to 
her  Majesty  and  received  the  holy  commun- 
ion thereupon  [so  good  a  conscience  hee  hath] 
and  consequently  threatned  most  sharp  re- 
venge towards  all  subjects  which  should  dare 
to  speake  thereof:  and  so  for  the  concealing 
both  of  this  and  other  his  doings,  which  hee 
desired  not  to  have  publike,  no  marvaile 
though  his  Lordship  were  so  diligent  a  pro- 
curer of  that  law  for  silence. 

Ley c ester  s  Common-wealth^  pp.  14,   15. 

I  cannot  but  greatly  bee  moved,  both 
for  these  considerations  well  touched  by  you, 
as  also  for  some  other,  .  .  .  especially,  now 
when  all  men  presume  that  her  Majesty  [by 
the  continuall  thwartings  which  have  been 
used  against  all  her  marriage]  is  not  like  to 
leave  unto  the  Realme,  that  pretious  Jewell 
so  much  and  long  desired  of  all  English 
hearts,  I  meane  the  Royall  heires  of  her 
owne  body. 


Actions 
of    Leycester 
whereof  hee 
would    have 
no  speech. 


Lazvver. 


1  Walter  Devereux,  the  first  Earl. 

2  Lattice  Knollys,  mother  of  Shake-speare. 


1 84 


Shake-spectre  England 's  Ulysses, 


Gentleman. 


Divers  mar- 
riages of  her 
Ma.  defeat- 
ed. 


Thwartings  call  you  the  defeating  of  all 
her  Majesties  most  honourable  offers  of  mar- 
riage? [said  the  other]  truly  in  my  opinion 
you  should  have  used  an  other  word  to  ex- 
presse  the  nature  of  so  wicked  a  fact:  where- 
by alone,  if  their  were  no  other,  this  un- 
fortunate man,  hath  done  more  hurt  to  his 
Common-wealth  then  if  hee  had  murdered 
many  thousands  of  her  subjects,  or  betrayed 
whole  armies  to  the  professed  enemy.  I 
can  remember  well  my  selfe,  foure  treatises 
to  this  purpose,  undermined  by  his  meanes; 
The  first  with  the  Swethen  King:  the  second 
with  the  Archduke  of  Austria:  the  third  with 
Henry  King  of  France  that  now  reigneth: 
and  the  fourth  with  the  brother  and  heire  of 
said  Kingdome.  For  I  let  passe  many  other 
secret  motions  made  by  greate  Potentates  to 
her  Majesty  for  the  same  purpose,  but  these 
foure  are  openly  knowen,  and  therefore  I 
name  them.  Which  foure  are  as  well  knowne 
to  have  beene  all  disturbed  by  this  Dawes, 
as  they  were  earnestly  pursued  by  the  other. 
And  for  the  first  three  Suters,  hee  drove  them 
away,  by  protesting  and  swearing  that  him- 
self was  contracted  unto  her  Majesty,  where- 
of her  highnesse  was  sufficiently  advertised 
by  Cardinall  Chatilian  in  the  first  treaty  for 
France,  and  the  Cardinall  soone  after  puni- 
shed [as  is  thought]  by  this  man  with  poison. 
But  yet  this  speech  hee  gave  out  then,  every 
where  among  his  friends  both  strangers  and 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet.  185 

other,  that  hee  [forsooth]  was  assured  to  her 
Majesty  and  consequently  that  all  other 
Princes  must  give  over  their  sutes,  for  him. 
Whereunto  notwithstanding,  when  the  Swe- 
then  would  hardly  give  eare,  this  man  con- 
ferred with  his  Privado  to  make  a  most  un- 
seemely  and  disloyall  proofe  thereof  for  the 
others  satisfaction,  which  thing  I  am  enforc- 
ed by  duty  to  passe  over  with  silence,  for 
honour  to  the  parties  who  are  touched  there- 
in: as  also  I  am  to  conceale  his  said  filthy 
Privado,  though  worthy  otherwise  for  his  dis- 
honesty to  be  displayed  to  the  World:  but  my 
Lord  himselfe,  I  am  sure,  doth  well  remember 
both  the  man  and  the  matter.  And  albeit 
there  was  no  wise  man  at  that  time  who 
knowing  my  L.  supected  not  the  false-hood, 
and  his  arrogant  affirmation  touching  this 
contract  with  her  Majesty,  yet  some  both 
abroad  and  at  home  might  doubt  thereof  per- 
haps: but  now  of  late,  by  his  knowen  mar- 
riage with  his  Minion  Dame  LetticecAEss€X, 
hee  hath  declared  manifestly  his  owne  most 
impudent  and  disloyall  dealing  with  his  sov- 
eraigne  in  this  report. 

For  that  report  [quoth  the  Lawyer]  I  Lawyer. 
know  that  it  was  common  and  maintained 
by  many,  for  divers  yeares:  yet  did  the 
wiser  sort  make  no  accompt  thereof,  seeing 
it  came  onely  from  himselfe,  and  in  his  owne 
behalfe.  Neither  was  it  credible,  that  her 
Majesty  who  refused  so  noble  Knights  and 


1 86 


Shake-speare  England 's    Ulysses, 


The  basenes 
of  Leycesters 
ancestors. 


Princes  as  Europe  hath  not  the  like:  would 
make  choise  of  so  meane  a  peere  as  Robin 
Dudley  is,  noble  onely  in  two  descents,  and 
both  of  them  stained  with  the  Block,  from 
which  also  himselfe,  was  pardoned  but  the 
other  day,  being  condemned  thereunto  by 
law  for  his  deserts,  as  appeareth  yet  in  pub- 
like  records.  And  for  the  widdow  of  Essex, 
I  marvaile  Sir  [quoth  hee]  how  you  call  her 
his  wife,  seeing  the  canon  law  standeth  yet 
in  force  touching  matters  of  marriage  within 
the  Realme. 

Oh  [said  the  gentleman  laughing]  you 
meane  for  that  hee  procured  the  poisoning  of 
her  Husband,  in  his  journey  from  Ireland. 
You  must  thinke  that  Doctor  Dale  will  dis- 
pence  in  that  matter,  as  hee  did  [at  his  Lord- 
ships appointment]  with  his  Italian  physitian 
Doctor  Julio,  to  have  two  wives  at  once :  at 
the  least  wise  the  matter  was  permitted,  and 
borne  out  by  them  both  publiquely  [as  all 
the  world  knoweth]  and  that  against  no  lesse 
persons  then  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
himselfe,  whose  overthrow  was  principally 
wrought  by  this  Tyrant  for  contrarying  his 
will,  in  so  beastly  a  demand.  But  for  this 
controversie  whether  the  marriage  bee  good 
or  no,  I  leave  it  to  bee  tried  hereafter,  be- 
tweene  my  yong  L.  of  Denbighe,  and  M. 
Sidney,1  whom  the  same  most  con- 


Gentleman. 


Doctor  Dale. 


Doctor  Julio. 


The  A  r  c  h- 
bishops  over- 
throw for  not 
allowing  two 
wives  to  Ley- 
cester  h  i  s 
Physitian. 


1  The  accomplished  Sir  Philip  Sidney  [nephew  to  Leicester]  attempted  a 
refutation  of  the  libel  [Leycester's  Commonwealth]  but  with  all  his  abilities  he 
sunk  under  the  task. — Lingard.  Vol.  VIII.  p.  307. 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet. 


187 


cerneth:  For  that  it  is  like  to  deprive  him  of 
a  goodly  inheritance  if  it  take  place,  [as  some 
will  say  that  in  no  reason  it  can]  not  onely  in 
respect  of  the  precedent  adultery  and  mur- 
der betweene  the  parties:  but  also  for  that 
my  L.  was  contracted,  at  least,  to  another 
Lady  before,  that  yet  liveth,  whereof  M. 
Kdward  Diar  and  M.  Edmond  Tilncy  both 
courtiers  can  bee  witnesses,  and  consumated 
the  same  contract  by  generation  of  children. 
But  this  [as  I  said]  must  be  left  to  bee  tried 
hereafter  by  them  which  shall  have  most  in- 
trest  in  the  case.  Onely  for  the  present  I 
must  advertise  you,  that  you  may  not  take 
hold  so  exactly  of  all  my  L.  doings  in  Wo- 
mens  affaires,  neither  touching  their  marri- 
ages, neither  yet  their  husbands. 
Leicester's  Common-wealth,  pp.  18,19,20,21. 

Long  after  this,  hee  fell  in  love  with 
the  Lady  Sheffield  whom  I  signified  before, 
and  then  also  had  hee  the  same  fortune  to 
have  her  Husband  die  quickly,  with  an  ex- 
treame  reume  in  his  head  [as  it  was  given 
out;]  but  as  other  say,  of  an  artificiall  Ca- 
tarre  that  stopped  his  breath.  The  like 
good  chance  had  hee  in  the  death  of  my 
Lord  of  Essex1  [as  I  have  said  before]  and 
that  at  a  time  most  fortunate  for  his  purpose: 
for  when  hee  was  comming  home  from  Ire- 
land, with  intent  to  revenge  himselfe  upon 


The  Lady 
Sheffield  now 
Embassades- 
se  in  France. 


Gentleman. 


The     suspiti- 
ous  death  of 
the  Lord 
Sheffield. 


1  Walter  Devereux,  father  of  Shake-speare. 


1 88 


Shake-speare  England 's   Ulysses, 


The  posoning 
of  the  Earle 
of  Essex. 


The  shifting 
of  a  child  in 
Dame  Lcttice 
belly. 


Gentleman. 


n\y  Lord  of  Leicester, *  for  begetting  his  wife 
with  child  in  his  absence  [the  child  was  a 
daughter  and  brought  up  by  the  Lady  Shan- 
dotes,  W.  Knooles  his  wife:]  my  Lord  of  Ley 
hearing  thereof,  wanted  not  a  friend  or  two 
to  accompany  the  Deputie,  as  among  other, 
a  couple  of  the  Earles  owne  servants,  Cromp- 
ton  [if  I  misse  not  his  name]  yeoman  of  his 
bottels,  and  Lloid  his  Secretary  Entertained 
afterward  by  my  Lord  of  Leycester.  And 
so  hee  died  in  the  way  of  an  Extreame  Flux, 
caused  by  an  Italian  Recipe,  as  all  his  friends 
are  well  assured:  the  maker  whereof  was  a 
Surgion  [as  is  believed]  that  then  was  newly 
come  to  my  Lord  from  Italy.  A  cunning 
man.  and  sure  in  operation,  with  whom  if 
the  good  Lady  had  beene  sooner  acquainted 
and  used  his  helpe,  shee  should  not  have 
needed  to  have  sitten  so  pensive  at  home 
and  fearefull  of  her  husbands  former  returne 
out  of  the  same  Countrey,  but  might  have 
spared  the  yong  child  in  her  belly,  which 
shee  was  enforced  to  make  away  [cruelly 
and  unnaturally]  for  clearing  the  house  a- 
gainst  the  good  mans  arrivall  .... 

I  was  recounting  unto  you  others  [said 
the  Gentleman]  made  away  by  my  Lord  of 
Leycester  with  like  art,  and  the  next  in  or- 
der I  thinke  was  Sir  Nicolas  Throgmarton, 
who  was  a  man  whom  my  Lord  of  Leycester 
used  a  great  while  [as  all  the  World  know- 


1  Shake-speare's  stepfather,  the  ghost  in  Hamlet. 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet. 


189 


eth]  to  over-thwart  and  crosse  the  doings  of 
my  Lord  Treasurer  then  Sir  Will.  Cicill, !  a 
man  specially  misliked  alwayes  of  Leicester, 
both  in  respect  of  his  old  Master  the  Duke 
of  Somerset^  as  also  for  that  his  great  wise- 
dome,  zeale  and  singular  fidelity  to  the 
Realme,  was  like  to  hinder  much  this  mans 
designements  .... 

Now  for  the  second  point,  which  I 
named,  touching  marriages  and  contracts 
with  Women:  you  must  not  marvaile  though 
his  Lordship  bee  somewhat  divers,  variable 
and  inconstant,  with  himselfe,  for  that  ac- 
cording to  his  profit  or  his  pleasure,  and  as 
his  lust  and  liking  shall  vary  [wherein  by  the 
judgement  of  all  men,  hee  surpasseth,  not 
only  Sard  ana palus  and  Nero,  but  even  Hel- 
iogabalus  himselfe:]  so  his  Lordship  also 
changeth  Wives  and  Minions,  by  killing  the 
one,  denying  the  other,  using  the  third  for 
a  time,  and  hee  fawning  upon  the  fourth. 
And  for  this  cause  hee  hath  his  tearmes  and 
pretences  [I  warrant  you]  of  Contracts,  Pre- 
contracts, Postcontracts,  Protracts,  and  Re- 
tracts: as  for  example:  after  hee  had  killed 
his  first  wife,  and  so  broken  that  contract, 
then  forsooth  would  hee  needs  make  him- 
selfe Husband  to  the  Queenes  Majesty,  and 
so  defeat  all  other  Princes  by  vertue  of  his 
precontract.  But  after  this,  his  lust  com- 
pelling him  to  an  other  place,  hee  would 


Sir  Will  Cy- 
cill  now  L. 
Treasurer. 


Gentleman. 


Leycester"1  s 
most  variable 
dealing  with 
Worn  en  in 
contracts  and 
marriages. 


Contracts. 


Precon- 
tracts. 


1  Polonious  in  Hamlet.     Cp.  note   i,  p.  177  and  the  conjectural,  1589   Dra- 
matis Personae  of  Hamlet. 


Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


Postcon- 


Retract. 


Protract. 


Leycester*  s 

two    Testa- 
ments. 


needs  make  a  postcontract  with  the  Lady 
Sheffield,  and  so  hee  did,  begetting  two  chil- 
dren upon  her,  the  one  a  boy  called  Robin 
Sheffield  now  living,  Some  time  brought  up 
at  Newington,  and  the  other  a  daughter, 
borne  [as  is  knowen]  at  Dudley  Castle.  But 
yet  after,  his  concupiscence  changing  againe 
[as  it  never  stayeth]  hee  resolved  to  make  a 
retract,  of  this  postcontract,  [though  it  were 
as  surely  done  [as  I  have  said]  as  Bed  and 
Bible  could  make  the  same]  and  to  make  a 
certaine  new,  protract,  [which  is  a  continu- 
ation of  using  her  for  a  time]  with  the  Wid- 
ow1 of  Essex:  But  yet  to  stop  the  mouths 
of  out  criars,  and  to  bury  the  Synagogus 
with  some  honour,  [for  these  two  wives  of  Lcv- 
ccster,  were  merrily  and  wittily  called  his  old 
and  new  Testaments,  by  a  person  of  great 
excellency  within  the  Realme]  hee  was  con- 
tent to  assigne  to  the  former  a  thousand 
pounds  in  money  with  other  petty  consider- 
ations, [the  pittifullest  abused  that  ever  was 
poore  Lady]  and  so  betake  his  limmes  to  the 
latter,  which  latter  notwithstanding,  hee  so 
useth  [as  wee  see]  now  confessing,  now  for- 
swearing, now  dissembling  the  marriage:  as 
hee  will  alwayes  yet  keepe  a  voyd  place  for 
a  new  surcontract  with  anv  other,  when  oc- 
casion shall  require. 

Leycester  s  Common-wealth^ 

pp.  23,  27,  29,  30. 


Lettice  Knollys,  mother  of  Shake-speare. 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet. 


191 


The  intended 
Murder     of 
Monsieur 
Simicrs    by 
Sundry 
meanes. 


His  [Leicesters]  treacheries  towards  the 
noble  late  Earle  of  Sussex  in  their  many 
breaches,  is  notorious  to  all  England.  As 
also  the  bloudy  practizes  against  divers  oth- 
ers. But  as  among  many,  none  were  more 
odious  and  misliked  of  all  men,  than  those 
against  Monsieur  Simiers  a  stranger  and 
Ambassador:  whom  first  hee  practised  to 
have  poisoned  [as  hath  beene  touched  be- 
fore] and  when  that  devise  tooke  not  place, 
then,  hee  appointed  that  Robin  Tider  his 
man]  as  after  upon  his  ale  bench  hee  confes- 
sed] should  have  slain  him  at  the  Black-friars 
at  Greenwich  as  hee  went  fourth  at  the  gar- 
den gate:  but  missing  also  of  that  purpose, 
for  that  hee  found  the  Gentleman  better  pro- 
vided and  guarded  than  hee  expected,  hee 
dealt  with  certaine  Flusshiners  and  other 
Pirates  to  sinke  him  at  Sea  with  the  Eng- 
lish Gentlemen  his  favourers,  that  accompa- 
nied him  at  his  returne  into  France.  And 
though  they  missed  of  this  practize  also,  [as 
not  daring  to  set  upon  him  for  feare  of  some 
of  her  Majesties  ships,  who  to  breake  off 
this  designement  attended  by  speciall  com- 
mandement,  to  waft  him  over  in  safety]  yet 
the  foresaid^wg //.*•//  Gentlemen,  were  holden 
foure  houres  in  chace  at  their  comming  back: 
as  M..  Rowley1  well  knoweth  being  then  pres- 
ent, and  two  of  the  Chacers  named  Clark  and 


1  Claudius,  the  King  in  Hamlet.     Cp.  the  1589  conjectural  Dramatis  Personae 
of  Hamlet  and  Raleigh  as  Maivolio,  pp.  124,  125,  153. 


192 


Shake-speare  England '  s  Ulysses, 


The  words  of 
Sir     Thomas 
Lay  ton 
brother-in- 
law    to    my 
Lord. 


The  words  of 
Mistresse 
Anne   West 
sister    unto 
this  holy 
Countesse. 


Harris  confessed  afterward  the  whole  desig- 
nement. 

Leycestcr  s   Common-wealth,  pp.  37,  38. 

The  words  also  of  Sir  Thomas  Layton, 
to  Sir  Henrv  Nevile,  walking  upon  the 
Tarresse  at  Windsor  are  knowne,  wTho  told 
him,  after  long  discourse  of  their  happy  con- 
ceived Kingdome,  that  hee  doubted  not,  but 
to  see  him  one  day,  hold  the  same  office  in 
Windsor,  of  my  Lord  of  Lev c ester,  which 
now  my  Lord  did  hold  of  the  Queene.  Mean- 
ing thereby  the  goodly  office  of  Constable- 
ship,  with  all  Royalties  and  honours  belong- 
ing to  the  same,  which  now  the  said  Sir 
Henry  exerciseth  onely  as  Deputy  to  the 
Earle.  Which  was  plainely  to  signifie,  that, 
hee  doubted  not  but  to  see  my  Lord  of  Ley - 
cester  one  day  King,  or  els  his  other  hope 
could  never  possibly  take  effect  or  come  to 
passe.  To  the  same  point,  tended  the  words 
of  Mistresse  Anne  West  Dame  Lettice^vs- 
ter,  unto  the  Lady  Anne  Askew  in  the  great 
Chamber,  upon  a  day  when  her  Brother 
Robert  Knowles  had  danced  disgratiously  and 
scornfully  before  the  Queene  in  presence  of 
the  Frencli.  Which  thing  for  that  her  Ma- 
jesty tooke  to  proceed  of  will  in  him,  as  for 
dislike  of  the  strangers  in  presence,  and  for 
the  quarrell  of  his  Sister  Essex:  it  pleased 
her  highnesse  to  check  him  for  the  same, 
with  addition  of  a  reproachfull  word  or  two 
[full  well  deserved]  as  though  done  for  dis- 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet. 


193 


pite  of  the  forced  absence,  from  that  place 
of  honour, ]  of  the  good  old  Gentlewoman 
[I  mitigate  the  words]  his  Sister.  Which 
words,  the  other  yonger  twigge  receiving  in 
deepe  dudgen,  brake  fourth  in  great  cholor 
to  her  fore-named  companion,  and  said,  that 
shee  nothing  doubted;  but  that  one  day  shee 
should  see  her  Sister, ]  upon  whom  the  Queene 
railed  now  so  much  [for  so  it  pleased  her  to 
tearme  her  Majesties  sharp  speech]  to  sit  in 
her  place  and  throne!  being  much  worthier 
of  the  sam3,  for  her  qualities  and  rare  ver- 
tues,  then  was  the  other.  Which  undutifull 
speech,  albeit,  it  were  over  heard  and  con- 
demned of  divers  that  sat  about  them:  yet 
none  durst  ever  report  the  same  to  her  Ma- 
jesty; as  I  have  heard  sundry  Courtiers  af- 
firme,  in  respect  of  the  revenge  which  the  re- 
porters should  abide  at  my  Lord  of  Ley c es- 
ters hand,  when  so  ever  the  matter  should 
come  to  light. 

Leycester  s  Common-wealth  >  pp.  86,  87. 

And  surely  it  is  a  wonderfull  matter  to 
consider  what  a  little  check,  or  rather  the  bare 
imagination  of  a  small  overthwart,  may  worke 
in  a  proud  and  disdainefull  stomack.  The 
remembrance  of  his  marriage  missed,  that  hee 


The  causes  of 
hatred    in 
Lcyccstcr  to- 
wards   her 
Majesty. 


"The  Countess  Lettice  [mother  of  Hssex]  was  punished  by  the  Queen's 
displeasure,  which  was  so  vehement  that  she  was  forbidden  [during  the  Queen's 
life|  to  show  herself  at  court,  "l— Shakespeare,  A  Critical  Study,  Brandes, 
p.  66. 

1  Cp.  notes,  p,  94, 


194 


Shake-spectre  England 's  Ulysses, 


The  force  of 
female  sug- 
gestions. 


Gentleman. 


The  weake- 
ne  sse  of 
/.cisf.  if  her 
Majesty  turne 
but  her  coun- 
tenance from 
him, 


so  much  pretended  and  desired  with  her  Ma- 
jesty doth  stick  deeply  in  his  breast  and  stir- 
reth  him  dayly  to  revenge.  As  also  doth  the 
disdaine  of  certaine  checkes  and  disgraces 
received  at  sometimes,  especially  that  of  his 
last  marriage:  which  irketh  him  so  much  the 
more,  by  how  much  greater  feare  and  dan- 
ger it  brought  him  into,  at  that  time,  and  did 
put  his  Widow  in  such  open  phrensie,  as 
shee  raged  many  moneths  after  against  her 
Majesty,  and  is  not  cold  yet:  but  remaineth 
as  it  were  a  sworne  enemy,  for  that  injury, 
and  standeth  like  a  friend  or  fury  at  the  el- 
bow of  her  Ainadis,  to  stirre  him  forward 
when  occasion  shall  serve.  And  what  effect 
such  female  suggestions  may*  worke,  when 
they  find  an  humour  proud  and  pliable  to 
their  purpose:  you  may  remember  by  the 
example  of  the  Duchesse  of  Somerset,  who 
inforced  her  Husband  to  cut  off  the  head,  of 
his  onely  dear  Brother,  to  his  owne  evident 
destruction  for  her  contentation. 

Leicester  s  Common-wealth,  pp.  98,  99. 

This  man  therefore,  so  contemptible  by 
his  ancestors,  soodible  of  himselfe,  so  plung- 
ed, overwhelmed,  and  defamed  in  all  vice,  so 
envied  in  the  Court,  so  detested  in  the  coun- 
trey,  and  not  trusted  of  his  own  and  dear- 
est friends;  nay  [which  I  am  privie  to]  so 
misliked  and  hated  of  his  owne  servants  a- 
bout  him,  for  his  beastly  life,  nigardy,  and 
Atheisme  [being  never  seene  yet,  to  say  one 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet.  195 

private  prayer  within  his  Chamber  in  his  life] 
as  they  desire  nothing  in  this  world  so  much 
as  his  mine,  and  that  they  may  be  the  first, 
to  lav  hands  upon  him  for  revenge.  This 
man  [I  say]  so  broken  both  within  and  with- 
out, is  it  possible  that  Her  Majesty,  and  her 
wise  Councell  should  feare?  I  can  never 
beleeve  it;  or  if  it  be  so,  it  is  God's  permis- 
sion without  all  cause,  for  punishment  of 
our  sinnes:  for  that  this  man,  if  hee  once 
perceive  indeed  that  they  feare  him,  will 
handle  them  accordingly,  and  play  the  Beare 
indeed:  Which  inconvenience  I  hope  they 
will  have  care  to  prevent,  and  so  I  leave  it 
to  God,  and  them;  craving  pardon  of  my 
Lord  of  Lcyccsterior  my  boldnesse,  if  I  have 
beene  too  plaine  with  him.  And  so  I  pray 
you  let  us  goe  to  supper, J  for  I  see  my  ser- 
vant expecting  yonder  at  the  gallerie  doore, 
to  call  us  downe. 

Leycester s  Common-wealth y  pp.  177,  178. 

Now,  Hamlet,  where's  Polonius? 
At  supper. 
At  supper!  where? 

Not  where  he  eats,  but  whare  he  is  eaten. 
Hum-let,  iv.  3. 


196  Shake-speare  England '  s  Ulysses, 


THE  LAST  STRAW,  1587. 

[ESSEX  TO  MR.  EDWARD  DIER.] 

Mr.  Dier, — I  have  been  this  morning  at  Winchester 
House  to  seek  you;  and  I  would  have  given  a  thousand 
pounds1  to  have  had  one  hour's  speech  with  you;  so 
much  I  would  hearken  to  your  counsel,  and  so  greatly 
do  I  esteem  your  friendship.  Things  are  fallen  out 
very  strangely  against  me,  since  my  last  being  with  you. 
Yesternight  the  Queen  came  to  North  Hall,  where  my 
Lady  of  Warwick  would  needs  have  my  sister  to  be; 
which,  though  I  knew  not  at  the  first,  yet  to  prevent 
the  worst,  I  made  my  Aunt  Leighton  signify  so  much 
unto  the  Queen  before  her  coming  from  Theobalds,  that, 
at  her  coming  to  North  Hall,  this  matter  might  not  seem 
strange  unto  her.  She  seemed  to  be  well  pleased  and 
well  contented  with  it,  and  promised  to  use  her  well. 

Yesternight,  after  she  was  come,  and  knew  my 
sister  was  in  the  house,  she  commanded  my  Lady  of 

1  Hamlet.     O  good  Horatio,  I'll  take  the  ghost's  word  for  a  thousand  pound. 
— Hamlet^  in.  2.     Cp.  note  from  Elze,  p.  in. 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet.  197 

Warwick  that  my  sister  should  keep  her  chamber; 
whereupon,  being  greatly  troubled  in  myself,  I  watched 
when  the  Queen  had  supped,  to  have  some  speech  with 
her,  which  I  had  at  large,  yet  still  she  giving  occasion 
thereof. 

Her  excuse  was,  first,  she  knew  not  of  my  sisters 
coming;  and,  besides,  the  jealousy  that  the  world  would 
conceive,  that  all  her  kindness  to  my  sister  was  done 
for  love  of  myself.  Such  bad  excuses  gave  me  a  theme 
large  enough,  both  for  answer  of  them,  and  to  tell  her 
what  the  true  causes  were ;  why  she  would  offer  this  dis- 
grace both  to  me  and  to  my  sister,  which  was  only  to 
please  that  knave  Ralegh,  for  whose  sake  I  saw  she 
would  both  grieve  me  and  my  love,  and  disgrace  me  in 
the  eye  of  the  world. 

From  thence  she  came  to  speak  of  Ralegh;  and  it 
seemed  she  could  not  well  endure  any  thing  to  be  spo- 
ken against  him;  and  taking  hold  of  one  word,  disdain, 
she  said  there  was  no  such  cause  why  I  should  disdain 
him.  This  speech  did  trouble  me  so  much,  that,  as 
near  as  I  could,  I  did  describe  unto  her  what  he  had 
been,  and  what  he  was;  and  then  I  did  let  her  know 
whether  I  had  cause  to  disdain  his  competition  of  love, 
or  whether  I  could  have  comfort  to  give  myself  over  to 
the  service  of  a  mistress  that  was  in  awe  of  such  a  man. 


198  Shake-speare  England *s  Ulysses, 

I  spake,  what  of  grief  and  choler,  as  much  against  him 
as  I  could,  and  I  think  he,  standing  at  the  door,  might 
very  well  hear  the  worst  that  I  spoke  of  himself.  In 
the  end,  I  saw  she  was  resolved  to  defend  him  and  to 
cross  me.  From  thence  she  came  to  s freak  bitterly 
against  ;;/r  motJier,  which,  because  I  could  not  endure 
to  see  me  and  my  house  disgraced  [the  only  matter 
which  both  her  choler  and  the  practise  of  mine  enemies 
had  to  work  upon]  I  told  her,  for  my  sister  she  should 
not  any  longer  disquiet  her;  I  would,  though  it  were 
almost  midnight,  send  her  away  that  night;  and  for 
myself,  I  had  no  joy  to  be  in  any  place,  but  loth  to  be 
near  about  her,  when  I  knew  my  affection  so  much 
thrown  down,  and  such  a  wretch1  as  Ralegh  highly  es- 
teemed of  her. 

To  this  she  made  not  answer,  but  turned  her  away 
to  my  Lady  of  Warwick.  So  at  that  late  hour  I  sent 
my  men  away  with  my  sister;  and  after,  I  came  hither 
myself.  This  strange  alteration  is  by  Ralegh's  means; 
and  the  Queen,  that  hath  tried  all  other  ways,  now  will 
see  whether  she  can  by  these  hard  courses  drive  me  to 
be  friends  with  Ralegh,  which  rather  shall  drive  vie  to 
many  other  extremities.'1  If  you  come  hither  by  twelve 

1  Cp.  use  of  the  word  in  Hamlet,  note  i,  p.  208. 

2  Cp.  note,  p.  94,  and  "The  Argument,"  p.  21. 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet.  199 

of  the  clock,  I  would  fain  speak  with  you.  My  resolu- 
tion will  let  me  take  no  longer  time.  I  will  be  this 
night  at  Margate;  and,  if  I  can,  I  will  ship  myself  for 
the  Flushing,  I  will  see  Sluys  lost  or  relieved,  which 
cannot  be  yet,  but  is  now  ready  to  be  done.  If  I  re- 
turn, I  will  be  welcomed  home;  if  not,  una  bclla  morire, 
is  better  than  a  disquiet  life.  This  course  may  seem 
strange,  but  the  extreme  unkind  dealing  with  me  drives 
me  to  it.  My  friends  will  make  the  best  of  it;  mine 
enemies  cannot  say  it  is  unhonest;  the  danger  is  mine, 
and  I  am  content  to  abide  the  worst.  Whatsoever  be- 
comes of  me,  God  grant  her  to  be  ever  most  happy; 
and  so  in  haste  I  commit  you  to  God. 

Your's  assured,  R.  Essex. 

The  21,  July  1587.' 

If  you  shew  my  letter  to  any  body,  let  it  be  to  my 
mother  and  Mr.  Secretary. 

Lives  of  the  Earls  of  Essex,  Vol.  I.  p.   186. 

1  "This  letter  has  not  the  date  of  the  year,  but,  as  we  find  him  writing  from 
Theobalds  on  the  3ist,  July,  1587,  to  inform  Leicester  that  the  news  of  the  fall 
of  Sluys  had  just  arrived,  it  is  undoubtedly  correctly  placed." — find,  Vol.  I.  p. 
1 86. 


2OO  Shake-spectre  England' s  Ulysses, 


De  Shakespeare  nostrati: — ;I  remem- 
ber, the  players  have  often-  mentioned  it 
as  an  honor  to  Shakespeare,  that  in  his 
writing  [whatsoever  he  penned]  he  never 
blotted  out  a  line.  My  answer  hath  been, 
Would  he  had  blotted  a  thousand.  Which 
they  thought  a  malevolent  speech.  I  had 
not  told  posterity  this,  but  for  their  ig- 
norance, who  chose  that  circumstance  to 
commend  their  friend  by,  wherein  he  most 
faulted;  and  to  justify  mine  own  candor: 
for  I  loved  the  man,  and  do  honor  his 
memory,  on  this  side  idolatry,  as  much 

as  any His  wit  wras   in   his  own 

power,    would  tJte  rule  of   it  had  been  so 
too. — Discoveries,   Ben   /onson,    1641. 

He  Shakespeare  nostrati : — Why  Jon- 
son  described  Shakespeare  as  '  'our  fellow 
countryman"  is  not  apparent,  whoever 
Shakespeare  was,  he  was  an  Englishman, 
and  everybody  must  have  known  it. —  77ie 
Mystery  of  William  Shakespeare,  fudge 
Webb,  p.  136. 


The  Origin  of  Hamlet.  201 

THE  REVENGE1  OF  HAMLET. 

"THAT  PIECE  -OF  His  WHICH  MOST  KINDLED  ENGLISH  HEARTS." 

"Base  thrall  is  he  that  is  foul  slander's  slave: 
To  pleasen  all  what  wight  may  him  behave? 
Yea,  Jove's  great  son,  though  he  were  now  alive, 
Mought  find  no  way  this  labour  to  achieve.  "a 

From  Peele"  s  Eclogue  Gratulatory  to  £ssex,  1589. 

He  that  shall  say   that   Essex  died  not  for  treason  is   punisha- 
ble. —  James  /.  ° 

CONJECTURAL  DRAMATIS  PERSONS,  1589. 

CLAUDIUS,  King-  of  Denmark  .       | 

and  of  Fardell4  and  "the  darling       .       r  SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH. 
of  the  English  Cleopatra,"5     .          .      ) 

LrciANus,  Nephew*  to  the  kino-,        ,  \ 

7   •  TO     j  11  r  SIR  (jrEo.  CAREW. 

a  poisoner    ana  a  Fardell,     .  ) 

HAMLET,  Stepson  ^/Leicester,  the        .  .  | 

former  King,   "Blood  is  a  beggar,"*  .  .  .       V  ESSEX. 

"  Who  would  these  Far  dies*  be  are  "  —  Hamlet,  in.  I.    .       ) 


POLOKIOUS,  "rnMtlus  ,     {  WM>  CE         LoRD  BuRLEIGH. 

counsellor.  —  Hamlet,  in.  4.   .     ) 

LAERTES,  son  to  Polonious,  .  .        SIR  ROBERT  CECIL. 

GHOST  of  Hamlet's  Stepfather,      .  .  1  T 

/-TA-I        -r-,1  T,-.  f  .LEICESTER. 

1  he  Player  King,  .  .  .  ) 

GERTRUDE,  Queen  ^/Denmark, 

wifS  u  of  thf  former  King-  and  .  <  ELIZABETH. 

mother     to  Hamlet, 

The  Player  Queen,  .  . 

I  Cp.  Lodge  1596,  on  Hamlet,  p.   114,  and  "Vindicta!  Revenge,"  p.  217. 
a  Cp.  note  i,  p.  186. 

3  Quoted  by  Coke  at  Raleigh's  trial  in  Winchester,  Nov.  I7th,  1603. 

4  The  Raleighs  of  Fardell.      Cp.    Life  of  Ralesfh,   Kchuards,  Vol.   I.  p.  2. 

5  Ibid,  Vol.  I.  p.  52. 

6  Cp.  Raleigh's  letter  to  Carew,  p.  209. 

7  Cp.  Cecil's  letter  to  Carew,  p.  128. 

8  Cp.  Nash  on  Hamlet,  p.   208. 

9  "Personal  allusions  were  the  sauceof  every  play,"  —  Shakespeare's  Poems, 
\Vyndham,  p.  XLIV. 

10  A  consensual  or  Scotch  marriage.    Cp.  the  J)e  Quadra  letter  of  1559,  p.  205. 

II  "Father  and  mother  is  man  and  wife;  man  and  wife  is  one  flesh;  and  so, 
my  mother  [Noble  Storge]  come,  for  England."  —  Hamlet,  iv.  3. 


Terror  of  darkness!  O,  thou  king  of  flames! 
That  with  thy  music-footed  horse  dost  strike 
The  clear  light  out  of  crystal  on  dark  earth, 
And  hurl'st  instructive  fire  about  the  world, 
Wake,  wake,  the  drowsy  and  enchanted  night 
That  sleeps  with  dead  eyes  in  this  heavy  riddle; 
Or  thou  great  prince  of  shades  where  never  sun 
Sticks  his  far  darted  beams,  whose  eyes  are  made 
To  shine  in  darkness,  and  see  ever  best 
Where  sense  is  blindest:  open  now  the  heart 
Of  thy  abashed,  oracle,  that  for  fear 
Of  some  ill  it  includes,  would  fain  lie  hid, 
And  rise  thou  with  it  in  thy  greater  light. 

Ambois*   Chapman. 


ULYSSES  AND  THE  COURT  OF 
ELIZABETH. 


Truth  is  a  good  dog;  but  beware  of  barking  too  close  to  the 
heels  of  an  error,  lest  you  get  your  brains  kicked  out. —  Table 
Talk,  Coleridge. 


When  Shakespeare,  Jonson,  Fletcher,  ruled  the  stage, 
They  took  so  bold  a  freedom  with  the  age, 
That  there  was  scarce  a  knave  or  fool  in  town 
O/  tiny  note*  but  had  his  portrait  shown. 

Sir  Carr  S 


I  work  in  weeds,  when  moon  is  in  the  wane, 

Whilst  all  the  swarm  in  sunshine  taste  the  rose; 

On  black-fern,  loe!  I  seek  and  suck  my  bane; 

Whilst  on  the  eglantine  the  rest  repose, 

Having  too  much,  the}7  still  repine  for  more, 
And  cloy'd  with  sweetness,  surfeit  on  their  store. 
The  Buzzing  Bees'  Complaint,  Essex,  1598 

1  "In  defense  of  Satire;"  quoted  by  the  Earl  of  Rochester  1678,  in  an  allusion 
to  the  Tenth  Satire  of  the  First  Book  of  Horace. 


2O4  Shake-speare  England 's    Ulysses, 

FALSTAFF  AS  LORD  COBHAM. 

"THRASONICAL  PUFF  AND  EMBLEM  OF  MOCK-VALOUR." 

Shakespeare  in  both  parts  of  Henry  IV.  originally 
named  the  chief  of  the  princes  associates  after  Sir  John 
Oldcastle,  a  character  in  the  old  play.  But  Henry 
Brooke,  Eighth  Lord  Cobham,  who  succeeded  to  the 
title  early  in  1597,  and  claimed  descent  from  the  his- 
torical Sir  John  Oldcastle,  the  Lollard  leader,  raised 
objection;  and  when  the  first  part  of  the  play  was  print- 
ed by  the  acting-company's  authority  in  1598  [Newly 
corrected  in  1599]  Shakespeare  bestowed  on  Prince 
Hal's  tun-bellied  follower  the  new  and  deathless  name 
of  Falstaff. 

A  trustworthy  edition  of  the  second  part  of  Henry 
IV.  also  appeared  with  Falstaff  s  name  substituted  for 
that  of  Oldcastle  in  1600.  There  the  epilogue  expressly 
denied  that  FalstafT  had  any  characteristic  in  common 
with  the  martyr  Oldcastle. 

"Oldcastle  died  a  martyr,  and  this  is  not  the  man." 
— A  Life  of  William  Shakespeare,  Sidney  Lee,  p.  169. 

This  Ulyssian  disavowal  made  three  years  after 
the  first  publication  shows  the  fight  "still  on"  between 
the  noble  Lord  Cobham  and  the  Actor  Shakspere  ?  for 
the  ironical  nature  of  the  denial  could  not  but  thrust 
the  poisoned  arrow  still  deeper  as  will  be  seen  by  the 
reliques  of  Sir  Henry  Watton,  Secretary  to  Essex. 

"He,  [Essex]  never  spoke  ill  of  any  one;  only 
against  Henry  Lord  Cobham  he  forswore  all  patience, 
calling  him,  even  to  the  Queen,  the  sycophant  per  ex- 
cellentiam."  —Lives  of  the  Earls  of  Essex,  Vol.  II.  p.  193. 


Ulysses  and  The  Court  of  Elizabeth.  205 


HAMLET  AS  SHAKE-SPEARE. 

"HE  WOULD  DO  THE  QUEEN  GOOD  AGAINST  HER  WILL."1 

"I  have  learnt"  says  De  Quadra,  the  Spanish  Am- 
bassador, writing  in  1559,  according  to  Mr.  Froude, 
"I  have  learnt  also  certain  other  things  as  to  the  terms 
on  which  the  Queen  and  Lord  Robert  [Leicester]  stand 
toward  each  other,  which  I  could  not  have  believed. " 
These  terms  are  written  in  the  next  \^ear  to  the  Duchess 
of  Parma  thus:—  ;'The  Lord  Robert  hath  made  himself 
master  of  the  business  of  the  state  and  the  person  of 
the  Queen;"  and  again  he  says  "this  woman  is  likely  to 
go  to  sleep  in  the  palace  and  wake  with  her  Lover  in 
the  Tower. "-—SJiakcspeare  s  Sonnets,  Gerald  Massey, 

P-  575- 

Player  King-  Leicester. 

Full  thirty  times  hath  Phoebus'  cart  gone  round 
Neptune's  salt  wash  and  Tellus'  orbed  ground, 
And  thirty  dozen  moons  with  borrow' d  sheen 
About  the  world  have  times  twelve  thirties  been, 
Since  love  our  hearts  and  Hymen  .did  our  hands 
Unite  commutual  in  most  sacred  bands. 

Hamlet,  ITT.  2,  1589.* 

'  'Sparks  of  indignation  in  the  Queen,  that  were  un- 
quenched  even  with  his  [Essex's  |  blood."'  —  Bircli  s  Eliz- 
abeth, Vol.  II.  p.  491. 

First  of  all,  you  must  consider  with  whom  you  have 
to  deal,  and  what  we  be  towards  her;  who,  though  she 
do  descend  very  much  in  her  sex  as  a  woman,  *  yet  we 

1  Cp.  note  2,  p.  166. 

2  Cp.  Nash  on  Ifamlet,  pp.   114,  208. 

3  Cp.  notes,  p.  125. 

*  Cp,  Essex's  letter  to  the  Queen,  p.  212. 


206  Shake-speare  England '  s  Ulysses, 

may  not  forget  her  place,  and  the  nature  of  it,  as  our 

Sovereign For  though  in  the  beginning  when 

her  Majesty  sought  you  [after  her  good  manner]  she 
did  bear  with  rugged  dealing  of  yours,  until  she  had 
what  she  fancied,  yet  now  after  satiety  and  fullness,  it 
will  rather  hurt  than  help  you  .  .  .  But  the  best  and 
soundest  way  in  mine  opinion  is,  to  put  on  another  mind, 
to  commend  such  things  as  should  be  in  her,  as  though 
they  were  in  her  indeed,  for  it  is  not  good  for  any  man 
straightly  to  weigh  a  general  disallowance  of  her  doings 
and  the  world  followeth  the  sway  of  her  inclination.— 
Edw..  Dyer  to  Sir  Christopher  I fatton,  Oct.  9th,  1572. 
[Cp.  Davisori  s  Poetical  Rhapsody <  Nicolas.'} 

Then  lived  a  galaxy  of  great  men,  and  it  is  lamen- 
table that  they  should  have  degraded  their  mighty 
powers  to  such  base  designs  and  purposes,  dissolving 
the  rich  pearls  of  their  great  faculties  in  a  worthless  acid, 
to  be  drunken  by  a  harlot.  What  was  seeking  the  fa- 
vor of  the  Queen,  but  the  mere  courtship  of  harlotry  ? 
—Lectures  on  Shakspere  and  Milton,  Coleridge,  p.  66. 

The  purpose  of  playing  is  to  show  virtue  her  own 
feature,  scorn  her  own  image,  and  the  very  age  and 
body  of  the  time  his  form  and  pressure. — Hamlet,  in.  2. 

If,  then,  we  should  find  that  Shakspeare  took  these 
materials  as  they  were  presented  to  him,  shall  we  not 
feel  and  acknowledge  the  purity  and  holiness  of  genius 
—a  light,  which,  however  it  might  shine  on  a  dunghill, 
was  as  pure  as  the  divine  effluence  which  created  all 
the  beauty  of  nature? — Lectures  on  Shakespeare  and 
t  Milton,  Coleridge,  1 8 1 1 ,  1812, 


Ulysses  and  TJie  Court  of,  Elizabeth.  207 

"He  [Philotas-Essex]  that  is  the  glory  of  the  greeks, 
Virtues  upholder,  Honors  countenance." 

Essex  as  Philotas,  Daniel's  Tragedy  of  Pliilotas,  1605. 

"The  Queen  hath  been  troubled  with  a  spice  or 
show  of  the  mother,  but  indeed  not  so.  The  fits  that 
she  hath  had,  hath  not  been  above  a  quarter  of  an  hour; 
but  yet  this  little  in  her  hath  bred  strange  bruits  here 

at  home. "-—Leicester  to Court  and  Society 

from  Elizabeth  to  Anne,  Vol.  I.  p.  248. 

With  the  aforesaid  person,  [Leicester]  and  with 
divers  others,  she  hath  abused  her  bodie  against  God's 
lawes,  to  the  disgrace  of  princely  majestic,  and  the 
whole  nations  reproache,  by  unspeakable  and  incredible 
variety  of  luste,  which  modesty  suffereth  not  to  be  re- 
membered, neyther  were  it  to  chaste  eares  to  be  uttered 
how  shamfully  she  hath  defiled  and  infamed  her  person 
and  country,  and  made  her  court  as  a  trappe,  by  this 
damnable  and  detestable  art  to  intangle  in  sinne,  and 
overthrowe  the  younger  sorte  of  the  nobilitye1  and  gen- 
tleman of  the  lande;  whereby  she  is  become  notorious 
to  the  worlde,  and  in  other  countryes  a  common  fable 
for  this  her  turpitude,  which  in  so  highe  degre,  namely 
in  a  woman  and  a  queene,  deserveth  not  onlie  deposi- 
tion,3 but  all  vengeance,  both  of  God  and  man,  and 
cannot  be  tolerated  without  eternal  infamie  of  our  whole 
countrie,  the  whole  worlde  deriding  our  effeminate  das- 
tardie,  that  have  suffered  such  a  creature  almost  thirty 
years  together  to  raigne  both  over  our  bodies  and  soules, 
and  to  have  the  chief  regiment  of  al  our  affaires,  as  wel 

1  Cp.  Kssex's  letter  to  the  Queen,  p.  212. 

2  Cp.  the  Philotag-Essex  lines,  p.  166,  and  sub-note  i,  p.  162. 


208  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

spiritual!  as  temporal,  to  the  extinguishinge  not  onely 
of  religion,  but  of  all  chaste  livinge  and  honesty.  —Ad- 
monition to  the  people  of  England,  Cardinal  Allen,  1 588. 
[Cp.  Lingard  s  History  of  England,  Vol.  VIII.  p.  465.] 

L  eic ester's  G/i  ost  : 

0  Hamlet,  what  a  falling-off  was  there! 
From  me,  whose  love  was  of  that  dignity 
That  it  went  hand  in  hand  even  with  the  vow 

1  made  to  her  in  marriage,  and  to  decline 
Upon  a  wretch1  whose  natural  gifts  were  poor 
To  those  of  mine! 

But  virtue,  as  it  never  will  be  mov'd, 
Though  lewdness  court  it  in  a  shape  of  heaven, 
So  lust,  though  to  a  radiant  angel  link'd 
Will  sate  itself  in  a  celestial  bed, 
And  prey  on  garbage.1 

Hamlet,  i.  5. 

"By  God's  Son  I  am  no  Queen;  that  man  [Essex] 
is  above  me. "-  —  Elizabeth  to  Harrington. 

"Yet  English  Seneca  read  by  candle-light  yields 
many  good  sentences,  as  "blood  is  a  beggar,"  and  so 
forth;  and  if  you  intreat  him  fair  in  a  frosty  morning, 
he  will  afford  you  whole  Hamlets,  I  should  say  hand- 

fuls,  of  tragical  speeches Seneca  let  blood  line 

by  line,  and  page  by  page,  at  length  must  die  to  our 
stage."  —  Trcjacc,  (/reejis  McnapJion,  Thomas  NasJi, 
1589. 

In  Elizabethan  England:  "the  young  man  of  fash- 
ion began  the  day  by  riding  to  St.  Paul's  and  promen- 
ading half-a-dozen  times  up  and  down  its  middle  aisle 

1  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.      Cp.  note  i,  p.  IQS. 

3  Exit  Essex,  enter  the  player  Shakspere.  .  Cp.  the   "Argument"  p.  21, 


Ulysses  and  The  Court  of  Elizabeth.  209 

At  dinner  he  discussed  Drake's  expedition  to 

Portugal At  three  he  betook  himself  to  the  the- 
atre   then  to  the  bear  garden then  to  the 

barbers,  in  preparation  for  the  Carouse  of  the  evening 
at  the  'Mitre,'  the  'Falcon,'  the  'Apollo,'  the  'Boar's 
Head, '  the  'Devil'  or  [most  famous  of  all]  the  'Mer- 
maid,'  where  the  literary  club,  the  Syren,  founded  by 
none  other  than  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  himself,  held  its 
meetings  ....  The  festive  bowl  circulated  freely,  even 
more  so  than  in  Denmark,  which  nevertheless  passed  for 
the  topers  paradise. "  —Shakespeare,  A  Critical  Study, 
Brandes,  p.  177. 

Hamlet.     The  King1  doth  wake  to  night  and  takes  his  rouse, 
Keeps  wassail,  and  the  swaggering  upspring3  reels; 
And  as  he  drains  his  draughts  of  Rhenish  down, 
The  kettle-drum  and  trumpet  thus  bray  out 
The  triumph  of  his  pledge. 

Hamlet,  1.4. 

Cussen  George :  For  my  retrait  from  the  Court3  it 
was  uppon  good  cause  to  take  order  for  my  prize.  If  in 
Irlande  they  thincke  that  I  am  not  worth  the  respec- 
tinge  they  shall  mich  deceave  them  sealvs,  I  am  in 
place  to  be  beleved  not  inferrior  to  any  man,  to  plesure 
or  displesure  the  greatest;  and  my  oppinion  is  so  re- 
ceved  and  beleved  as  I  can  anger  the  best  of  them. 
And  therfore,  if  the  Deputy  be  not  as  reddy  to  steed 
mee  as  I  have  bynn  to  defend  hyme, — be  it  as  is  may. 
...  I  take  mysealfe  farr  his  better  by  the  honorable  of- 

1  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.      Cp.  note  i,  p.  213. 

2  Pope  substituted  "upstart,"  this  confirms  the  "plebeian  time-server"  of  sub/< 
note  i,  p.  163. 

3  Cp.  Captain  Allen's  letter  to  Anthony  Bacon,  p.  215. 

14 


2io  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

fices  I  hold,  as  also  by  that  nireness  to  her  Majesty e  which 

still  I  injoy,  and  never  more Farewell,  noble 

George,  my  chosen  friend  and  kinsman,  from  whom  nor 
tyme,  nor  fortune,  nor  adversety,  shall  ever  sever  mee. 

—Letter,  Ralegh  to  Sir  George  Carew,  Dec.  27th,  1589. 

—Life  of  Ralegh,  Edivards,  Vol.  II.  p.  41. 

"There  is  this  singular  and  admirable  in  the  con- 
duct of  Elizabeth  that  she  made  her  pleasures  subser- 
vient to  her  policy,  and  she  maintained  her  affairs  by 
what  in  general  occasions  the  ruin  of  princes.  So  se- 
cret were  her  amours,  that  even  to  the  present  day  their 
mysteries  cannot  be  penetrated.  Her  lovers  were  her 
ministers,  and  her  ministers  were  her  lovers."  —Curios- 
ities of  Literature,  Isaac  Disrceli,  Vol.  I.  p.  352. 

This  strange  alteration  is  by  Raleghs  means;  and 
the  Queen,  that  hath  tried  all  other  ways,  now  will  see 
whether  she  can  by  these  hard  courses  drive  me  to  be 
friends  with  Ralegh,  which  rather  shall  drive  me  to 
many  other  extremities  .  .  .  Whatsoever  becomes  of  me, 
God  grant  her  to  be  ever  most  happy.1 — Letter,  Essex 
to  Edward  Dier,  July  2ist,  1587. 

Leicester 's  Ghost: 

Howsoever  thou  pursuest  this  act, 
Taint  not  thy  mind,  nor  let  thy  soul  contrive 
Against  thy  mother  aught?  leave  her  to  heaven 
And  to  those  thorns  that  in  her  bosom  lod^e, 
To  prick  and  sting  her. 

Hamlet,  i.  5. 

Before  his  Lordship's  going  into  Ireland  ...  it 
pleased  him  expressly  and  in  a  set  manner  to  desire 
mine  opinion  and  counsel.  At  which  time  I  did  not 

1  Cp.  note  from  Elze,  p.  in,  and  sub- note  2,  p.  166, 


Ulysses  and  The  Court  qfr  Elizabeth.  211 

only  dissuade,  but  protest. against  his  going,  telling  him 
with  as  much  vehemency  and  asseveration  as  I  could, 
that  absence  in  that  kind  would  exulcerate  the  Queen's 
mind,  whereby  it  would  not  be  possible  for  him  to  carry 
himself  so  as  to  give  her  sufficient  contentment  ...  I 
apprehended  readily  a  particular  I  think  be  knoivn  to 
very  few, 1  and  the  which  I  do  the  rather  relate  unto 
your  Lordship,  because  I  hear  it  talked,  that  while  my 
Lord  was  in  Ireland  I  revealed  some  matter  against  him, 
I  cannot  tell  what. ! — Bacons  Apology  Concerning  Es- 
sex, 1 604. 

"Well,  the  next  news  that  I  heard  was,  that  my 
Lord  was  come  over,  and  that  he  was  committed  to 
his  chamber  for  leaving  Ireland^  without  the  Queen's 
license  ...  I  came  to  his  Lordship,  and  talked  with  him 
private!}7  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  he  asked  mine 
opinion  of  the  course  was  taken  with  him  ....  I  re- 
member my  Lord  was  willing  to  hear  me,  but  spake 
very  few  words,  and  shaked  his  head  sometimes,  as  if 
he  thought  I  was  in  the  wrong  ...  I  prepared  a  son- 
net directly  tending  and  alluding  to  draw  on  her  Majes- 
ty's reconcilement  to  my  Lord  .  .  .  I  feared  not  to  allege 
to  her,  that  this  proceeding  toward  my  Lord  was  a 
thing  towards  the  people  very  implausible;  and  there- 
fore wished  her  Majesty,  howsoever  she  did,  yet  to  dis- 
charge herself  of  it,  and  to  lay  it  upon  others. "  — Bacon  s 
Apology  Concerning  Essex,  1604. 

In  1584,  1585,  1587  and  again  in  1589,  Ralegh  had 
large  and  very  profitable  grants  of  license  to  export 

1  Hamlet,  a  satire  on  the  Court. 

2  The  exulceration  existed  before  his  "going  into  Ireland. "     Cp.  Judge  Webb's 
note  p.  167,  and  notes  pp.  125-158. 

3  Hamlet  by  the  Player,  a  harmless  work  of  art.     Cp.  the  "Argument,"  p.  21. 


212  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

woolen  broad-cloths,  on  payment  of  a  rent  reserved  to 
the  Queen  [p.  63].  In  1584,  Ralegh  obtained  a  still 
more  important  grant  of  what  was  termed  the  '  'Farm 
of  Wines;"  that  is,  the  power  of  granting  licenses  for 
their  vent,  and  of  regulating  under  certain  restrictions 
their  prices,  throughout  England  [p.  63].  The  first 
relaxation  [Elizabeth's  anger  at  Raleigh's  marriage] 
grew  out  of  the  necessities  of  the  royal  Exchequer  [p. 
143].  Spoils  had  been  wrenched  from  Spain  such  as 
hitherto  were  almost  unexampled.  Sir  Walter  Ralegh 
is  the  especial  man  [p.  151].  One  of  the  largest  and 
best-laden  of  the  coveted  "Indian  carracks"  the  Madre 
de  Dios,  was  taken  [I59I-I594]1  by  Ralegh's  own  ship, 
The  Roebuck  [pf  149].  The  spoils  of  the  "great  car- 
rack"  had  for  years  a  considerable  effect  on  English  com- 
merce, in  more  ways  than  one.  The  sale  of  certain  pre- 
cious commodities  was  altogether  prohibited,  as  regards 
the  ordinary  course  of  trade,  in  order  to  obtain  an  ad- 
vantageous market  for  the  goods  stored  up  from  the  Mad- 
re  de  Dios. — Life  of  Ralegh,  Edwards,  Vol.  I.  p.  158. 

Elizabeth,   The  Player  Queen. 

The  instances  that  second  marriage  move 
Are  base  respects  of  thrift,  but  none  of  love; 
A  second  time  I  kill  my  husband2  dead, 
When  second  husband3  kisses  me  in  bed. 

Hamlet,  in.  2. 

The  imprisonment  mentioned  by  Sir  Walter's  bi- 
ographer, in  his  life  prefixed  to  his  History  of  the  World 
•[Third  Edition,  1687],  was  for  devirginating  a  maid  of 

1  Undoubtedly  Hamlet  was  under  constant  revision  up  to  1601.    Cp.  note  from 
Judge  Webb,  p.  150. 

*  Robin  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester. 
3  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 


Ulysses  and  The  Court  of  Elizabeth.  213 

honour  in  1595.  But  why  for  this  one  action  he  should 
lie  under  the  imputation  of  a  debauch,  is  the  logic  of  none 
but  the  vulgar. — History  of  Maryland,  Bozman,  1811, 
p.  366. 

Queen.        What  shall  I  do? 

Hamlet.     Not  this,  by  no  means,  that  I  bid  you  do: 
Let  the  bloat  king1  tempt  you  again  to  bed, 
Pinch  wanton  on  your  cheek,  call  you  his  mouse; 
And  let  him,  for  a  pair  of  reechy2  kisses, 
Or  paddling  in  your  neck  with  his  damn'd  fingers, 
Make  you  to  ravel  all  this  matter  out. 

Hamlet,  in.  4. 

When  I  remember  that  your  Maj.  hath,  by  the 
intolerable  wrong  you  have  done  both  me  and  yourself, 
not  only  broken  all  laws  of  affection,  but  done  against 
the  honor  of  your  sex,  I  think  all  places  better  than  that 
where  I  am,  and  all  dangers  well  undertaken,  so  I 
might  retire  myself  from  the  memory  of  my  false,  in- 
constant, and  beguiling  pleasures.  I  am  sorry  to  write 
thus  much,  for  I  cannot  think  your  mind  so  dishonor- 
able but  that  you  punish  yourself  for  it,  how  little  soever 
you  care  for  me.  But  I  desire  whatsoever  falls  out, 
that  your  Maj.  should  be  without  excuse,  you  knowing 
yourself  to  be  the  cause,  and  all  the  world  wondering  at 
the  effect.  I  was  never  proud,  till  your  Maj.  sought  to 
make  me  too  base.  And  now  since  my  destiny  is  no 
better,  my  despair  shall  be  as  my  love  was,  without  re- 
pentance.— Letter,  Essex  to  the  Queen. — Lives  of  the 
Earls  of  Essex,  Vol.  I.  p.  493. 


1  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.     Cp.  note  i,  p.  209. 

2  Cp.  note  i,  p.  221. 


214  S hake-spear e  England's  Ulysses, 

To  her  first  parliament  Elizabeth  expressed  a  wish 
that  on  her  tomb  might  be  inscribed  the  title  of  "the 
virgin  queen."  But  the  T£'cw/<7;/  wlio  despises  the  safe 
guards  must  be  content  to  forfeit  the  reputation  of  chas- 
tity   But  Dudley  though  the  most  favoured,  was 

not  considered  as  her  only  lover;  among  his  rivals  were 
numbered  Hatton,  and  Raleigh,  and  Oxford,  and  Blount, 
and  Sirnier,  and  Anjou;  and  it  was  afterwards  believed 
that  her  licentious  habits  survived,  even  when  the  fires 
of  wantonness  had  been  quenched  by  the  chill  of  age.— 
LingarcFs  History  of  England,  Vol.  VIII.  p.  424. 

Mary  to  Elizabeth. 

Woe  to  you!  when,  in  time  to  come,  the  world 
Shall  draw  the  robe  of  honor  from  your  deeds, 
With  which  thy  arch-hypocrisy  has  veil'd 
The  raging  flames  of  lawless  secret  lust. 

Mary  Stuart,  Schiller. 

Leicester's  Ghost: 

Ay,  that  incestuous,  that  adulterate  beast,  ) 

With  witchcraft  of  his  wit,  with  traitorous  gifts, —  }  * 
O  wicked  wit  and  gifts,  that  have  the  power 
So  to  seduce! — won  to  his  shameful  lust 
The  will  of  my  most  seeming-virtuous  queen. 

Hamlet^  1.  5. 

"Sir  Walter  Raleigh  he  is  the  hated  man  of  the 
world,  in  court,  city,  and  country." — Anthony  Bagotto 
Richard  Bagot,  May  1587.—  Lives  of  the  Earls  of  Es- 
sex, Vol.  I.  p.  1 86. 

1  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.      Cp.  the  spoils  from  the  Madre  de  Dios,  p.  212. 


Ulysses  and  The  Court  of  Elizabeth.  21  < 

•x  ./  ^} 

'  'My  lord  of  Essex  hath  chased  Mr.  Raleigh  from 
the  court1  and  confined  him  in  Ireland. "-—Letter,  dated 
Aug.  17,  1589,  Captain  Francis  Allen  to  Anthony  Bacon. 

Quandra,  bishop  of  Aquila,  the  Spanish  ambassa- 
dor, in  the  beginning  of  1561,  informs  the  king,  that 
according  to  common  belief,  the  Queen  '  'lived  with  Dud- 
ley, "  that  in  one  of  his  audiences  Elizabeth  spoke  to  him 
respecting  this  report,  and  in  proof  of  its  improbability, 
showed  him  the  situation  of  her  apartment  and  bed 
chamber But  in  a  short  time  she  deprived  her- 
self of  this  plea.  Under  the  pretext  that  Dudley's  apart- 
ment in  a  lower  story  of  the  palace  was  unwholesome, 
she  removed  him  to  another,  contiguous  to  her  own 

chamber In  September  of  the  same  year  these 

rumours  derived  additional  credit  from  the  change  in 
the  Queen's  appearance. — History  of  England,  Lin- 
gar  d,  Vol.  VIII.  p.  425. 

In  allusion  to  the  current  talk  on  the  subject  of  the 
Dudley  amour  De  Quadra  also  reports  that  the  Queen 
said  she  "was  afraid  the  Archduke  Charles  might  take 
advantage  of  the  scandal  which  could  not  fail  to  reach 
his  ears  on  his-  arrival  in  England,  and  should  he  not 
marry  her  [in  consequence]  her  honour  might  suffer" 
should  not  innocence  have  remained  proudly  silent? 
Why  should  her  Majesty  have  met  scandal  one  half- 
way if  she  had  not  previously  advanced  the  other  half? 
—  Shakespeare  s  Sonnets,  Gerald  Massey,  p.  575. 


1  By  the  play  of  Hamlet.      Cp.  Nash  on  Hamlet,  1589,  pp.  114-208,  also  cp. 
Raleigh's  letters  to  Carew,  p.  209. 


216  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

Why,  look  you  now,  how  unworthy  a  thing  you 
make  of  me!  You  would  play  upon  me;  you  would 
seem  to  know  my  stops;  you  would  pluck  out  the 
heart  of  my  mystery.  Sblood,  do  you  think  I  am 
easier  to  be  played  on  than  a  pipe?  Call  me  what 
instrument  you  will,  though  you  can  fret  me,  you 
cannot  play  upon  me. — Hamlet,  in.  2. 

"The  Queen  says  he  [Essex]  hath  played  long 
enough  upon  her,  and  that  she  means  to  play  awhile 
upon  him." -—News  of  the  day,  Chamberlin,  Aug.  3oth, 
1598. — Lives  of  the  Earls  of  Essex,  Vol.  I.  p.  491. 

Her  breasts  two  crystal  orbs  of  whitest  white, 
Two  little  mounts  from  whence  lifes  comfort  springs. 
Between  those  hillocks  Cupid  doth  delight 
To  sit  and  play,  and  in  that  valley  sings: 
Looking  love-babies  in  her  wanton  eyes, 
That  all  gross  vapors  thence  doth  chastesize. 

Mother  Nature  describing  her  Phoenix1  to  Jove,  Love's  Martyr? 
p.  12. 

"And  so  most  humbly  embracing  and  admiring 
the  memory  of  those  celestial  beauties,  which  with  the 
people  is  denied  me  to  review,  I  pray  God  your  Maj- 
esty may  be  eternal  in  joys  and  happiness.  Your  Maj- 
esty's most  humble  slave."-— Letter,  Raleigh  to  the 
Queen,  1602. — Life  of  Ralegh,  Edivards,  Vol.  1 1.  p.  252. 

Here  shall  you  see  how  men  disguise  their  ends, 
And  plant  bad  courses  under  pleasing  shows,3 
How  well  presumptions  broken  ways  defends, 


1  Cp.  Dr.  Grosart's  note,  p.  84. 

2  On  the  authorship  of  Love's  Martyr.     Cp.  note  i,  p.  141. 

3  For  the  political  complexion  of  Shake-speare's  historical  plays,  see  records  of 
The  New  Shakespeare  Society,  Vol.  II.,  1874. 


Ulysses  and  The  Court  of-  Elizabeth.  217 

Which  clear-ey'd  judgement  gravely  doth  disclose. 

Tragedy  of  Philotus  [Essex  as  Philotus] ,  Daniel,  1605. 

But  now  behold, 

In  the  quick  forge  and  workinghouse  of  thought, 
How  London  doth  pour  out  her  citizens! 
The  mayor,  and  all  his  brethren,  in  best  sort, 
Like  to  the  senators  of  the  antique  Rome, 
With  the  plebeians  swarming  at  their  heels, 
Go  forth,  and  fetch  their  conquering  Caesar  in: 
As,  by  a  lower  but  by  loving  likelihood, 
Where  now  the  general  of  our  gracious  empress1 
[As  in  good  time  he  may]  from  Ireland  coming, 
Bringing  rebellion  broached  on  his  sword, 
How  many  would  the  peaceful  city  quit 
To  welcome  him? 

Henry  V.,  Act   V.,   Chorus. 

"But  if  Shakespeare's  colleagues,  acting  Shake- 
speare's Plays,  gave  umbrage  to  Essex's  political  oppon- 
ents in  Henry  IV.,  applauded  his  ambition  in  Henry 
V.,  and  were  accessories  to  his  disloyalty  in  Richard 
II. ,  there  were  playwrights  and  players  ready  enough 
to  back  the  winning  side. " — Shakespeare  s  Poems,  Geo. 
Wyndham,  p.  33. 

Comedy. 

How  some  damn'd  tyrant  to  obtain  a  crown* 

Stabs,  hangs,  impoisons,  smothers,  cutteth  throats: 

And  then  a  Chorus,  too,  comes  howling  in 

And  tells  us  of  the  worrying  of  a  cat: 

Then,  too,  a  filthy  whining  ghost, 

Lapt  in  some  foul  sheet,  or  a  leather  pilch, 

Comes  screaming  like  a  pig  half  stick'd, 

And  cries,    Vindicta! — Revenge,  Revenge! 

Induction,  A    Warning  For  Faire  Women,  1599. 

1  Essex,  cp.  lines  on  the  dismantling  of  the  Masque,  p.  18. 

2  Essex,  cp.  Ben  Jonson's  "Steep  desire,"  p.  223. 


218  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

'  The  induction  to  the  Warning  is  notable  also  in 
that  it  containes  what  is  apparently  a  fling  at  Shakspere's 
Richard  III.,  Henry  V.,  Macbeth  and  Hamlet.  It  may 
cause  suprise  that  such  open  mockery  of  the  method, 
if  not  of  the  very  plays  of  Shakspere  should  have  been 
allowed  on  his  own  stage."  -The  School  of  Shakspere, 
Richard  Simpson,  Vol.  II.  p.  216. 

"Ben  Jonson,  in  his  Cynthia  s  Revels  [1600],  put 
forth  two  censorious  allusions  to  Essex's  conduct.  In- 
deed the  framework  of  this  play,  apart  from  its  inciden- 
tal attacks  on  other  authors,  is  a  defense  of  'Cynthia's' 
[the  Queen's]  severity.  Says  Cupid  [i.  i]  :— -  'The  hunt- 
ress and  queen  of  these  groves,  Diana,  in  regard  of  some 
black  and  envioits  slanders  hourly  breathed  against  her, * 
for  divine  justice  on  Actseon  ....  hath  ....  proclaim'd 
a  solemn  revels,  which  [her  godhead  put  off]  she  will 
descend  to  grace. '  The  play  was  acted  before  Elizabeth, 
and  contains  many  allusions  to  the  'Presence.'  After 
the  masque,  Cynthia  thanks  the  masquers  [v.  3]  :— 

'For  j^ou  are  they,  that  not,  as  some  have  done, 
Do  censure  us,  as  too  severe  and  sour, 
But  as,  more  rightly,  gracious  to  the  good; 
Although  we  not  deny,  unto  the  proud, 
Or  the  profane,  perhaps  indeed  austere: 
For  so  Actaeon,  by  presuming  far, 
Did,  to  our  grief,  incur  a  fatal  doom  .  .  . 
Seems  it  no  crime  to  enter  sacred  bowers 
And  hallow'd  places  with  impure  aspect, 
Most  lewdly  to  pollute?     Let  mortals  learn 
To  make  religion  of  offending  heaven, 
And  not  at  all  to  censure  powers  divine.' 

1  The  play  of  Hamlet.      Cp.  Letter,  Anthony  Bacon  to  Essex,  p.  152. 


Ulysses  and  The  Court  of.  Elizabeth.  219 

In  1600,  such  lines  can  only  have  pointed  to  Essex- 
Actseon's  mad  intrusion  into  the  presence  of  a  Divine 
Virgin.  In  1601  if,  as  some  hold,  these  lines  were  a 
late  addition,  the  reference  to  Essex's  execution  was 
still  more  explicit. "-—Shakespeare s  Poems,  Geo.  Wynd- 
ham,  p.  xxxiv. 

Further  along  in  his  notes  [p.  258]  speaking  of 
Robert  Chester's  Love  s  Martyr,  and  the  contributed 
poems  by  Shakespeare,  Jonson,  Chapman  and  Marston 
on  the  Phoenix  and  the  Turtle,  Mr.  Wyndham  says,  "it 
is  impossible  to  understand  exactly  what  these  poems 
are  about."  Now  continuing  with  crusty  Ben  in  his 
"Revels"  it  will  be  seen  that  our  Phoenix  subject  is  re- 
newed, and  never  was  irony  so  deftly  handled — that  while 
apparently  censuring  Essex,  Jonson2  has  assumed3  the 
character  of  Horatio  and  is  fooling  the  Queen  to  the ' '  top 
of  her  bent"  that  through  the  Queen  he  is  carrying  out 
Hamlet's  dying  request. 

Hamlet.      Horatio,  what  a  wounded  name, 

Things  standing  thus  unknown,  shall  live  behind  me! 

If  thou  didst  ever  hold  me  in  thy  heart, 

Absent  thee  from  felicity  awhile, 

And  in  this  harsh  world  draw  thy  breath  in  pain, 

To  tell  my  story. 

With  what  art  and  dare-devil  hardihood  "Good 
Horatio"  performed  this  task— considering  his  loathing 
and  contempt  for  the  Queen's  character,  witness:— 

1  The  Masque  of  Love  s  Labor' s  Won. 

2  Thy  tytle's  Asper,  Criticus,  Quintus,  Horatius,  Place  us,  Satt'romastix,i6o2. 

3  Spenser  was  undoubtedly  Horatio  in  the  1589  Hamlet.     Cp.  Hale's  note,  p. 

83- 


22O  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

Elizabeth-Cynthia  .  .  .  Let  it  suffice 
That  we  take  notice,  and  can  take  revenge 
Of  these  calumnious  and  lewd  blasphemies} 
For  we  are  no  less  Cynthia  than  we  were, 
Nor  is  our  power,  but  as  ourself,  the  same:  .  .  . 
Years  are  beneath  the  spheres,  and  time  makes  weak 
Things  under  heaven,  not  powers  which  govern  heaven  .  .  . 

\_The  dancers  unmask. 

How:  let  me  view  you.      Ha!  are  we  contemned?^ 

Is  there  so  little  awe  of  our  disdain, 

That  any  [under  trust  of  their  disguise^1 

Should  mix  themselves  with  others  of  the  court, 

And,  without  forehead,  boldly  press  so  far, 

As  farther  none?     How  apt  is  lenity 

To  be  abused:  severity  to  be  loathed! 

And  yet  how  much  more  doth  the  seeming  face 

Of  neighboring  virtues,  and  their  borrowed  names,2 

Add  of  lewd  boldness  to  loose  vanities: 

Who  would  have  thought  that  Philautia3  durst 

Or  have  usurped  noble  Storge's  name,4 

Or  with  that  theft  have  ventured  on  our  eyes? 

Who  would  have  thought,  that  all  of  them  should  hope 

So  much  of  our  connivance,  as  to  come, 

To  grace  themselves  with  titles  not  their  own?* 

Instead  of  medicines,  have  we  maladies? 

And  such  imposthumes  as  Phantaste  is 

Grow  in  our  palace?     We  must  lance  these  sores, 

Or  all  will  putrify. 

Cynthia's  Revels,  v.  3,  Ben  Jonson,  1600,   1601. 


1  Elizabeth  as  Gertrude  in  Hamlet. 

8  Essex  disguised  as  Shake-speare. 

3  Character  assumed  by  Essex  in  The  Device  of  Self-Love.  Cp.  note  i,  p. 
164,  and  sub-note  i,  p.  173. 

*  The  Phoenix  was  Elizabeth's  emblem,  "about  1574  a  medal  was  struck 
bearing  on  the  obverse  a  portrait  of  Elizabeth,  and  on  the  reverse  a  phoenix  in 
flames  with  cipher  and  crown." — Century  Dictionary. 


Ulysses  and  The  Court  of  Elizabeth. 

Player.      But  who,  O,  who  had  seen  the  mobled  queen — 

Hamlet.    'The  mobled  queen? 

Polonius.  That's  Good;  'mobled  queen'  is  good. 

Player.      Run  barefoot  up  and  down,  threatening  the  flames 
With  bisson  rheum;  a  clout  about  that  head 
Where  late  the  diadem  stood;  and  for  a  robe, 
About  her  lank  and  all  cfer-teemed  loins, 
A  blanket,  in  the  alarm  of  fear  caught  up. 

Hamlet,  n.  2. 


221 


"The  Queen  is  cankered  and  her  mind  has  become 
as  crooked  as  her  carcass.1  Thisjemark  of  Essex  cost 
my  lord  his  head;  which  his  iusurrection  had  not  cost 
him  but  for  that  speech. "-  —Prerogative  of  Parliaments, 
Raleigh V  Works.  [Cp.  Lives  of  the  Earls  of  Essex, 
Vol.  II.  p.  131.] 


Persian.     What  need  have  Alexander  so  to  strive 

By  all  these  shows  of  form,  to  find  this  man 
Guilty  of  treason,  when  he  doth  contrive 
To  have  him  so  adjudged?     Do  what  he  can 
He  must  not  be  acquit,  tho'  he  be  clear, 
Th'  offender,  not  the  offence,  is  punished  here. 
And  what  avails  the  fore-condemned2  to  speak? 
However  strong  his  cause  his  state  is  weak. 

Grecian.     Ah,  but  it  satisfies  the  world,  and  we 

Think  that  well  done,  which  done  by  law  we  see. 

Persian.     And  yet  your  law  serves  but  your  private  ends. 

Act  v.,  Chorus,   Tragedy  of  Philotus  [Es- 
sex  as    Philotus],    Samuel  Daniel,  1605, 


1  Cp.  note  2,  p.  213. 

2  Cp.  sub-notes,  pp.  162  and  163. 


Wen  men  grow  fast 

Honor'd  and  loved,  there  is  a  trick  in  state, 
Which  jealous  princes  never  fail  to  use, 
How  to  decline  that  growth,  with  fair  pretext, 
And  honorable  colors  of  employment, 
Either  by  embassey,  the  war,  or  such, 
To  shift  them  forth  into  another  air, 
Where  they  ma}7  purge  and  lessen;  so  was  he: 
And  had  his  seconds  there,  sent  by  Tiberius, 
And  his  more  subtle  dam,  to  discontent  him; 
To  breed  and  cherish  mutinies;  detract 
His  greatest  actions;  give  audacious  check 
To  his  commands;  and  work  to  put  him  out 
In  open  act  of  treason. 

)  i.  i,  Ben  Jonson,  1603. 


Lastly,  I  would  inform  you,  that  this  book,1  [Sejanus]  in  all 
numbers,  is  not  the  same  with 'that  which  was  acted  on  the  public 
stage;  wherein  a  second  pen  had*  good  share:  in  place  of  which, 
I  have  chosen  to  put  weaker,  and,  no  doubt,  less  pleasing  of  mine 
own,  than  to  defraud  so  happy  a  genius3  of  his  right  by  my  loathed 
usurpation. — Introduction  to  Sejanus,  1603. 

Shakespeare  himself  assisted  Ben  Jonson  in  his  Sejanits,  as 
it  was  originally  written. — Richard  Farmer. 


1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  30. 

2  The  man  was  dead. 

3  Cp.  Daniel's  "genius  of  that  time,"  p.  225. 


THE  MAN  WAS  DEAD. 


Sacred  is  the  fame  of  Poets. — Saml.  Daniel. 


.  .  .  .  Fame  is  all  that  a  dead  man  can  possess. — '-Demosthenes. 


Any  man  who  believes  that  William  Shakspere  of  Stratford 
wrote  "Hamlet"  or  "Lear"  is  a  fool. — John  Bright. 


We  must  sing  too!     What  subject  shall  we  choose? 

Or  whose  great  Name  in  Poets  Heaven  use 

Who  at  suggestion  of  a  steep  desire1 

Cast  himself  from  the  spire 
Of  all  his  happiness?     But  soft:  I  hear 

Some  vicious  fool  draw  near, 
That  cries  we  dream. 

Ben  Jonson  in  Love's  Martyr,  1601,  pp.  189,  192. 


1  To  save  Love's  Martyr  from  being  "suppressed"  or  "called  in,"  Jonson  is 
here  patronizing  the  Queen — his  real  meaning,  I  take  it,  was  given  forty  years 
later  in  Discoveries.  Cp.  pp.  200,  201. 


In  Patriam  rediit  magnus  Appollo  Sit  am. 

Fame's  full  of  lies 

Envy  doth  aye  true  honor's  deeds  despise. 

Peele's  Eclogue  to  Essex,  1589.      [Cp.  p.  293]. 


I  remember  well,  I  said  to  the  Queen,  you  have  now  Madam 
obtained  victory  over  two  things,  which  the  greatest  princes  in 
the  world  cannot  at  their  wills  subdue;  the  one  is  over  fame ,'  the 
other  is  over  a  great  mind. — Bacon's  Apology  Concerning  Essex, 
1604. 


Rail  not  'gainst  Fortunes  sacred  deitie, 
In  youth  thy  virtuous  patience  she  hath  tryed, 
From  this  base  earth  shee'l  lift  thee  up  on  hie, 
Where  in  content's  rich  chariot  thou  shalt  ride, 
And  never  with  impatience  to  abide: 

Fortune  will  glon7  in  thy  great  renown, 
And  on  thy  feather'd  head  will  set  a  crown. 

Mother  Nature  to  The  Phoenix?  Love's  Martyr ',  p.  31. 


1  This  could  be  construed  as  the  fame  of  Elizabeth  as  Gertrude  in  Hamlet, 
but  I  think  it  means  the  fame  of  Essex  as  Shake-speare. 

2  Cp.  Essex  as  the  Phoenix  in  The  Phoenix  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won, 
note  i,  p.  164. 


THE    MAN  WAS  DEAD. 

Shake-speare,  Dramatist,  died  of  lese-majeste,  Feb'y.  25th,  1601. 

Queen  Elizabeth,  died  Mar.  24th,  1603. 

Shakspere,  Player,  died  of  a  drunken  frolic  April  2srd,  1616. 

And  yet  I  grieve  for  that  unfinished  frame, 
Which  thou  dear  muse  didst  vow  to  sacrifice 
Unto  the  bed  of  peace,  and  in  the  same 
Design  our  happiness  to  memorize, 
Must,  as  it  is,  remain,  tho'  as  it  is: 
It  shall  to  after-times  relate  my  zeal 
To  Kings  and  unto  right,  to  quietness, 
And  to  t)ic  union  of  the  commonwealth. 
But  this  may  now  seem  a  superfluous  vow, 
We  have  this  peace;  and  thou  hast  sung  enough, 
And  more  than  will  be  heard,  and  then  as  good 
As  not  to  write,  as  not  be  understood, 
For  know,  great  Prince,  when  you  shall  come  to  know, 
That  'tis  not  in  the  power  of  kings  to  raise 
A  spirit  for  verse,  that  is  not  born  thereto,' 
Nor  are  they  born  in  every  Prince's  days: 
For  late  Eliza's  reign  gave  birth  to  more, 
Than  all  the  Kings  of  England  did  before. 
And  it  may  be,'^  the  genius  of  that  time, 
Would  leave  to  her  the  glory  in  that  kind, 
And  that  the  utmost  powers  of  English  rhyme, 
Should  be  within  her  peaceful  reign  confin'd. 
Dedication,  Daniel's  Philotas,  [Essex  as  Philotas4],  1605. 

In  1609  Troilus  and  Cressida  was  published  with 
the  announcement  [in  the  preface]  that  the  Shakespearian 
Plays  were  the  property  of  certain  grand  possessors.— 
The  Mystery  of  William  Shakespeare,  Judge  Webb,  p.  73. 

1  Cp.  sub-note  i,  p.  162. 

2  The  Player  Shakspere;  it  is  noteworthy  that  Daniel  refers  to  Shakspere  and 
Shake-speare  in  the  same  poem. 

3  For  all  time  to  come. 

*  Cp.  Daniel's  letter  to  Devonshire,  p.  161. 


226  Shake-spectre  England 's  Ulysses, 


My  comb,  a  rift;  my  hive,  a  lease  must  be: 
So  chang'd,  the  bees  scarce  took  me  for  a  bee. 
The  Buzzing  Bees  Complaint^  Essex.   1598. 

For  shame,  I  say,  give  virtue  honors  due! 
I'll  please  the  shepherd  but  by  telling  true; 
Palm  mayst  thou  see  and  bays  about  his  head, 
That  a/1  his  flock  right  forwardly  hath  led. 

I'ecle's  Eclogue  Gratulatory  to  Essex,   1589. 

We  propose  a  person1  like  our  dove, 

Graced  with  a  Phoenix8  love: 
A  bodie  so  harmoniously  composed, 

As  if  Nature  disclosed 
All  her  best  symetrie  in  that  one  feature-/ 

O,  so  divine  a  creature2 
Who  could  be  false  to?  chiefly  when  he  know's 

How  only  she3  bestowes 
The  wealthy  treasure  of  her  love  in  him: 

Making  his  fortunes  swim 
In  the  full  flood  of  her  admir'd  perfection? 

What  savage,  brute  affection, 
Would  not  be  fearful  to  offend  a  Dame'" 

Of  this  excelling  frame? 

Much  more  a  noble  and  right  generous  Mind, 
[To  virtuous  moods  inclined] 

That  knows  the  weight  of  guilt.4 

Ben  Jonson  in  Lome's  Martyr,   1601. 

She2  was  to  him1  th'  analized  world  of  pleasure, 
Her  firmness  clot  lid  him  in  rariely; 
Excess  of  all  things,  he  joyd  in  her  measure, 
Mourn'd  when  she  mourn'd,  and  dieth  when  she  dies. 
George  Chapman  in  I, ore's  Martyr.   1601 

1  Essex,  the  honey-tongued  Shake-speare. 

~  The  Phoenix  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won  or  The  Knacted  Will. 

3  Mother  Nature  herself,  a  Dramatist.      Cp.  Spenser's  lines  frontispage  10. 

*  The  man  was  dead, 


TJie  A fan  Was  Dead.  227 

Such  one  lie  was,  of  him  we  boldly  say, 

In  whose  rich  soul  all  sovereign  powers  did  suit, 

In  whom  in  peace  the  elements  all  lay 

So  mixt  as  none  could  sovereignty  impute, 

As  all  did  govern  yet  all  did  obey: 

His  lively  temper  \vas  so  absolute, 

That  it  seemed,  when  Heaven  his  model  first  began, 

In  him  it  showed  perfection  in  a  man! 

Michael  Dray  ton,  1603. 

It  is  noticeable  that  in  a  later  edition  of  his  poem 
[1619]  Drayton  has  returned  to  his  description,  and 
retouched  it  into  a  still  nearer  likeness  to  that  of  Shake- 
speare. The  last  two  lines  are  altered  thus:— 

As  that  it  seemed  when  Nature  him  began, 
She  meant  to  show  all  that  might  be  in  man. 

Shakespeare's  Sonnets,   Gerald  Massey,  p.  573. 

We  have  expressed  the  opinion  that  Shakespeare 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  publication  of  the  Sonnets 
in  1609.  This  is  put  beyond  a  doubt  by  the  parenthe- 
ses at  the  end  of  Sonnet  126  in  that  edition.  Shake- 
speare could  not  have  inserted  these  parentheses,  and 
Thorpe  would  not  have  done  it  if  either  he  or  his  editor 
had  been  in  communication  with  Shakespeare.  In  that 
case,  one  or  the  other  of  them  would  have  asked  him 
for  the  couplet;  and  he  would  either  have  supplied  it  or 
have  explained  that  the  poem  was  complete  as  it  stood 
—Dr.  Furnivall  says  he  has  no  doubt  that  the  insertion 
of  the  marks  of  parentheses  "was  the  printers  doings;" 
and  Mr.  Thomas  Tyler  expresses  the  same  opinion;  but 
it  is  extremely  improbable  that  the  printer  would  resort 
to  this  extraordinary  typographical  expedient  [absolute- 
Iv  unprecedented,  so  far  as  our  observation  goes]  with- 


228  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

out  consulting  the  publisher,  and  Thorpe  would  not 
have  consented  to  it  if  he  could  have  avoided  it.  It  is 
clear  that  printer  or  publisher,  or  both,  considered  that 
something  was  evidently  wanting  which  could  not  be  sup- 
plied and  must  be  accounted  for.  The  only  two  books, 
so  far  as  we  know,  ever  published  by  Shakespeare  him- 
self were  the  Venus  and  Adonis  [1593]  and  the  Lucrccc 
[1594].  These  have  dedications  of  his  own,  and  the 
care  with  which  they  arc  printed  indicates  tJiat  he  super- 
vised their  passage  through  the  press.  If  he  had  had 
anything  directly  to  do  with  bringing  out  the  Sonnets 
in  1609,  we  may  be  sure  that  these  poems  in  which  he 
had  so  peculiarly  personal  an  interest  would  have  been 
dedicated  by  himself,  and  the  printing  would  have  been 
done  under  his  own  eye.  He  would  not  have  allowed 
it  to  be  done  while  he  was  absent  from  London  but 
would  have  had  it  delayed  //;////  his  return. !  Some  crit- 
ics have  said  that  "the  correction  of  the  press  by  the 
author  was  unknown  in  Elizabethan  times;"  but  this  is 
a  mistake.  At  the  end  of  Beeton's  Will  of  Wit  [1599] 
we  find  this  note:  "What  faults  are  escaped  in  the  print- 
ing, find  by  discretion,  and  excuse  the  author,  by  other 
work  that  let  [hindered]  him  from  attendance  to  the 
press."  The  many  bad  errors  in  the  1609  edition  of 
the  Sonnets  and  the  parentheses  in  126  are  indisputable 
evidence  that  there  was  no  "attendance  to  the  press" 
on  the  part  of  the  author.2 — Shakespeare  s  Sonnets,  W. 
J.  Rolfe,  p.  184. 

Whose  great  name  in  poets  Heaven  use, 
Par  the  more  countenance  to  our  active  muse  f 
Ben  Johnson  in  Lore's  Martyr,  1601,  p.  189. 

1  "The  undiscovered  country  from  whose  bourn  no  traveller  returns." 
8  "Thy  adverse  party  is  thy  advocate." — Son.  ay-xxxv. 


The  Man  Was  Dead.  229 

Shine  forth,  thou  star  of  poets;  and  with  rage, 
Or  influence,  chide,  or  cheer,  the  drooping-  stage. 
Ben  Jonson,  in  First  Folio,  1623. 

But  for  two  remarkable  circumstances,  Shakespear- 
ian criticism  would  never  have  exercised  so  many  minds 
and  rilled  so  many  volumes.  One  is  the  fact  noted  by 
the  editors  of  the  Folio,  that  Shakespeare  had  not  "the 
fate  common  with  some  to  be  exequtor  to  his  owne  writ- 
ing. "  That  the  author  of  Othello  and  As  You  Like  It 
should  not  have  deemed  those  works  worthy  of  the  ed- 
itorial care  bestowed  on  Venus  and  Adonis  and  Lucrece; 
that  he  used  them  simply  as  a  means  of  making  money, 
and  when  the  purpose  had  been  served,  took  no  further 
heed  of  them ;  that  notwithstanding  the  publication  and 
rapid  sale  of  pirated  and  inaccurate  copies,  he  was  never 
moved,  during  the  years  of  retirement  at  Stratford,  to 
take  even  the  initial  step  of  collecting  and  revising  for 
publication  the  manuscripts  of  his  plays;  and  that,  so 
far  as  their  author  was  concerned,  they  might  be  stolen, 
travestied,  or  perish  altogether;  are  surely  among  the 
strangest  facts  in  the  history  of  literature. —  The  Diary 
of  Master  William  Silence,  Madden,  p.  319. 

Horace —  \Jonsen\  : 

"All  men  af right  their  foes  in  what  they  may, 
Nature  commands  it,  and  men  must  obey." 
Observe  with  me:      "The  wolf  his  tooth  doth  use, 
The  bull  his  horn.      And  who  doth  this  infuse, 
But  nature?"  .  .  .  But  briefly,  if  to  age  I  destined  be, 
Or  that  quick  death's  black  wings  environ  me; 
It  rich  or  poor;  at  Rome;  or  fate  command 
I  shall  be  banished  to  some  other  land; 
What  hue  soever  my  whole  state  shall  bear, 
I  will  write  satires  still,  in  spite  of  fear. 

Eques:     Virgil  is  now  at  hand,  imperial  Caesar. 


230  Shake-spectre  England 's  Ulysses, 


Caesar:    Rome's  honor1  is  at  hand  then.      Fetch  a  chair, 
And  set  it  on  our  right  hand;  where  'tis  fit 
Rome's  honor,1  and  our  own  should  ever  sit. 
Now  is  he  come  out  of  Campania, 
I  doubt  not  he  has  finished  all  his  Acne  ids!" 
Which,  like  another  soul,  I   long  to  enjoy.  I  Maecenas.'5 
What  think  you  three,  of  Virgil,  gentlemen,  -   Gallus.4 
That  arc  ot  his  profession.  (  Tibullus.;> 

Gallus: So  chaste  and  tender  is  his  ear, 

In  suffering  any  syllable  to  pass, 

That  he  thinks  may  become  the  honored  name1 

Of  issue*  to  his  so  examined  self; 

That  all  the  lasting  fruits  of  his  full  merit, 

In  his  own  poems,  he  doth  still  distaste; 

As  if  his  minds  peace,  which  he  strove2  to  paint, 

Could  not  \vith  fleshly  pencils  have  her  right. 

The  Poetaster,  v.  i.,  Ben  Jonson,   1601. 

1  "Inevitably   'Liberal  Honour'  and   'Love's  Lord'  are   accepted  as   his  titles 
of  right  and  it  does  not  look  like  a  mere  coincidence  that  Churchyard  names 
Essex  'Honor.'  " 

Sweet  civil  Lords,  shall  sawsy  fellows  meet, 
Who  must  ask  grace,  on  knees  at  honors  feet. 

ChurchyarcT  s  Fortunate  I<\u-eicell.  Dr.  CrosarC  s  introduction  to  Lore' s  Mar- 

O'>%  PP-  35.  39- 

O  Honour's  fire,  that  not  the  brackish  sea 
Mought  quench,  nor  foeman's  fearful  'larums  lay! 
So  high  those  golden  flakes  done  mount  and  climb 
That  they  exceed  the  reach  of  shepherds  rhyme. 

Peele' ' s  J:ch>^in'  to  A.V.SVA,   1589. 

2  The  man  was  dead. 

'•'  Maecenas,1  Statesman  and  patron  of  literature.  Intrusted  with  the  admin- 
istration of  Rome  during  the  absence  of  Octavianus  on  an  expedition  against 
Pompeius,  friend  and  patron  of  Horace  and  Virgil. 

4  Callus,  Poet,  orator,  general,2  and  politician.  He  supported  Octavius,  com- 
manded a  part  of  his  army  at  the  battle  of  Actium  and  pursued  Antony  to  Kgvpt. 

•°  '/'ihullits,  Elegiac  poet  patronized  by  Messala,  whom  he  accompanied  in  a 
campaign  to  Aquitania. 

6 Look  how  the  fathers  face 

Lives  in  his  issue,  even  so  the  race 

Of  Shakespeare's  mind  and  manners  brightly  shines 

In  his  well  turned,  and  true  filed  lines. 

Memorial  I'crscs,  Ben  Jonson^  1623. 

1  Essex,  the  brightest  Maecenas  of  that  accomplished  age.--  Royal  amJ  Xot>lt>  Authors.  Wat- 
Pole.  Vol.  I.  p.  108. 

2  The   play,  I    remember,  pleased  not  the  million;   'twas  caviare  to   the   General  of  our 
gracious  Empress.—  Hamlet  and  Henry  I'.     Cp.  p.  18. 


The  Alan  Was  Dead.  231 

Few  people,  whose  eyes  now  glide  as  smoothly 
along'  the  text  of  Shakspeare  as  along  the  text  of  the 
Waverly  Novels,  are  aware  of  the  amount  of  labour 
which  the  luxury  they  are  enjoying  has  involved.  It 
would  be  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  the  text  of  Shak- 
speare has  come  down  to  us  in  a  worse  state  than  that 
of  any  other  great  author,  either  in  our  own  or  in  any 
other  language.  That  he  himself  prepared  none  of  his 
plays  for  publication  is  certain;1  that  any  of  them  were 
printed  from  his  autograph,  or  even  from  copies  correc- 
ted by  him,  is,  in  spite  of  what  Heminge  and  Condell 
have  asserted,  open  to  grave  doubt.  Of  the  thirty  seven 
plays  usually  assigned  to  him,  seventeen  had  at  various 
times  appeared  in  quarto,  those  quartos  consisting  of 
transcripts  of  stage  copies  surreptitiously  obtained  with- 
out the  consent  either  of  the  author  or  of  the  manager. 
They  have  therefore  no  authority,  but  are  depraved  in 
different  degrees  by  "the  alterations  and  botchery  of 
the  Players1  by  interpolations  of  all  kinds  and  from  all 
sources,  and  by  printers  blunders  in  every  form  they 
can  assume,  from  the  corruption  or  omission  of  single 
words  to  simple  revelries  of  nonsense.  4  'Perhaps  in  the 
whole  annals  of  English  typography,"  says  Hunter, 
'  'there  is  no  record  of  any  book  of  any  extent  and  rep- 
utation having  been  dismissed  from  the  press  with  less 
care  and  attention  than  the  first  folio."  Bad  as  most 
of  the  quartos  are, '  the  first  folio  is  often  worse.  Words, 
the  restoration  of  which  is  obvious,  left  unsupplied;  un- 
familiar words  transliterated  into  gibberish ;  punctuation 
as  it  pleases  chance;  sentences  with  the  subordinate 

1  My  comb,  a  rift;  my  hive,  a  lease  must  be; 
So  chang'd,  the  bees  scarce  took  me  for  a  bee. 
The  Kuzzhitf  /lee's  Complain/,  Kssex,  1598. 


232  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

clauses  higgledy-piggledy  or  upside  down;  lines  trans- 
posed; verse  printed  as  prose,  and  prose  as  verse; 
speeches  belonging  to  one  character  given  to  another; 
stage  directions  incorporated  in  the  text;  actor's  names 
suddenly  substituted  for  those  of  the  dramatis  persona; 
scenes  and  acts  left  unindicated  or  indicated  wrongly- 
all  this  and  more  make  the  text  of  the  first  folio  one  of 
the  most  portentous  specimens  of  typography  and  edi- 
ting in  existence. — Essays  and  Studies,  J.  Churton 
Collins,  p.  292. 

Galileo  [1609]  was  reading  the  open  volume  of  the 
sky,  but  Shakespeare1  did  not  mention  him.  This  to  me 
is  the  most  marvelous  thing  connected  with  this  most 
marvelous  man.  —  Shakespeare  A  Lecture,  Robert  (J.  fn- 
o'crsoll,  p.  1 6. 

For  such  whose  poems  be  they  ne'er  so  rare, 
In  private  chambers  that  encloistered  are, 
And  by  transcription  daintily  must  go 
As  tho'  the  world  unworthy  were  to  knowr 
Their  rich  composures,  let  those  men  who  keep 
These  wondrous  relics  in  their  judgement  deep, 
And  cry  them  up  so,  let  such  pieces  be 
Spoke  of  by  those  that  shall  come  after  me. 
Poets  and  Poesy )  Michael  Drayton  [Certainly  before  1609]. 

'  'All  this  is  far  too  explicit  to  be  general,  and  must 
have  had  a  particular  aim.  The  lines  seem  to  reply  to 
Meres.  Here  are  the  'rare  poems'  for  'Sugred  Sonnets, ' 
the  'private  chambers'  for  'private  friends, '  the  friends 
who  keep  the  sonnets,  for  the  friends  among  whom 
Shakespeare's  Sonnets  are,  and  the  men  who  cry  up 
these  relics  in  their  judgement  deep!  The  critic  Meres 
for  example.  "-  —  Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  Gerald  Massey, 
P-  571- 

1  The  man  was  dead. 


The  Man  Was  Dead.  233 

In  the  light  of  present  evidence  Mr.  Massey  is  un- 
doubtedly correct  in  attributing  to  Drayton  a  '  'particular 
aim"  at  the  Sonnets  of  1609,  but  in  so  doing  he  fails  to 
note  that  the  "dainty  transcriptions"  could  not  be  in 
"private  chambers"  or  '  'encloistered"  after  their  pub- 
lication, which  gives  to  Drayton's  composition  a  date 
prior  to  1609,  and  that  in  the  use  of  the  word  "relics" 
Drayton  very  plainly  tells  us  that  the  author  of  the  Son- 
nets was  in  "the  undiscovered  country"  prior  to  their 
publication  in  1609  which  wipes  out  the  stupid  miracle 
that  the  most  intellectual  of  men,  willingly, }  '  'submitted 
to  ascriptions  by  other  hands, "  "gave  his  writings  to 
negligence"  and  "deserted  the  children  of  his  brain." 

Be  your  words  made,  good  Sir,  of  Indian  ware, 
That  you  allow  me  them  by  so  small  rate? 
Or  do  you  curtled  Spartanes  imitate? 
Or  do  you  mean  my  tender  ears  to  spare 
That  to  my  questions  you  so  total  are? 
When  I  demand  of  Phoenix,2  Stellas3  state, 
You  say,  forsooth,  you  left  her  well  of  late: 
O  God,  think  you  that  satisfies  my  care? 
/  would  know  whether  she  did  sit  or  walk; 
How  clothed;  how  waited-on;  sigh'd  she  or  smilde; 
Whereof,  with  whom, — how  often, — did  she  talke; 
}Vit]i  what  pastimes  Time' s  journey  she  beguilde  ; 
If  her  lips  daign'd  to  sweeten  my  poor  name; 
Say  all;  and,  all  well  said,  still  say  the  same. 
A  strophe!  to  Stella,  Son.  92,  Philip  Sidney,  before  1586. 

Yet  in  this  lovely  swain  [Essex],  source  of  our  glee, 
Must  all  his  [Sidney's]  virtues  sweet  reviven  be. 
Peelers  Eclogue  Gratulatory  to  Essex,  1589. 

1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  231. 

2  Cp.  Essex  as  the  Phoenix,  note  i,  p.  164,  notes,  p.  220  and  all  of  p.  238. 

3  Cp.  sub-note  2,  p.  120. 


234  Shake-spear e  England' s   Ulysses, 

Rosalind.  Alas  the  day!  what  shall  I  do  with  my  doublet 
and  hose?  ]\  hat  did  he  i^hen  tlion  sink's/  him/  \\~hat  said  he? 
How  looked  he?  ll'/iercin  went  lie?  \}')iat  makes  he  here?  Did 
he  ask  for  me/  //7/cvr  remains  he?  How  parted  he  with  thee? 
And  w 'hen  sJialt  thou  see  him  again/  Answer  me  in  one  word. — 
As  You  Like  //,  TIT.  2. 

All  his  other  works — the  narrative  poems  and  the 
early  quartos — are  said  to  be  '  'by  William  Shakespeare" 
which  is  the  customary  and  prescriptive  style  of  an  au- 
thor who  ventures  on  his  own  account.  The  quarto 
[of  the  Sonnets]  as  printed,  abounds  in  typographical 
and  other  errors— which  might  easily  have  escaped  the 
eyes  of  a  proof-reader,  but  not  those  of  the  writer  him- 
self. But  while  Shakespeare  was  the  writer  of  the  Son- 
nets he  had  nothing  to  do  with  their  publication  [in  1609]. 
The  very  form  of  the  title-page,  Shake-speares  Sonnets, 
is  proof  positive  of  this.1 — A  New  Study  of  tJie  Sonnets 
of  Shakespeare,  I\irk  (iodwin,  p.  16. 

There  is  evidence  absolutely  incontrovertible,  that 
the  poet  never  saw  the  Sonnets  through  the  press.  There 
are  from  forty  to  fifty  errors  which  could  not  have  passed 
if  they  had  been  submitted  to  Shakspeare.  And  such 
is  the  nature  of  our  poet's  promises  made  to  Southampton. 
So  careful  was  he  in  correcting  It  is  other  poems >  [1593, 
1594]  that  we  must  conclude  he  would  have  superin- 
tended the  publication,  and  not  subjected  his  promises 
of  immortality  to  all  the  ills  of  printers  mortality,  had  he 
given  his  sanction  to  it  as  it  comes  to  us.--77/r  Secret 

o 

Drama  of  Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  Gerald  Mass ey^  p.  172. 

I  cannot  sufficiently  set  down  what  [in  mv  judge- 
ment, and  by  the  relation  of  very  just  and  wise  men]  I 

1  The  man  was  dead. 


The  Man   Was  De-ad.  235 

have  concieved  of  his  secrets.  But  that  I  may  speak 
somewhat  of  him  according  to  true  judgement  and  in- 
diflerencie:  because  peradventure,  some  have  either 
malevolently,  with  exceeding  bitterness  abused  his  hon- 
orable ashes  contumeliously ;  and  others  percase  which 
have  as  blindly  in  the  contrary  sanctified  him  as  one 
more  than  a  man,  beyond  his  deserts  and  the  measure 
of  his  nature;  [both  which  are  most  odious  to  the  true 
taste  of  all  noble  natures,]  I  say  thus  much:  Which 
they  that  wisely  did  know  him,  will  acknowledge  also. 
His  DI ind  was  incomprehensible,  the  loftiness  of  his  wit 
was  most  quick,  present,  and  incredible;  in  disembling 
with  counterfeit  friends,  and  in  turning  the  mischiefes 
and  fallacies  of  his  enemies  upon  their  own  heads  and 
in  concealing  any  matter  and  business  of  importance, 
beyond  expectation. —  Four  Books  of  Offices,  Barnaby 
Barnes,  1606. 

Exalted  Shakespeare,  with  a  boundless  mind, 
Ranged  far  and  wide,  a  genius  unconfined; 
The  passions  swayed,  and  captive  led  the  heart, 
Without  the  critic's  rules  or  aid  of  art. 

The  Progress  of  Posey,   1731. 

No  comprehension  has  yet  been  able  to  draw  the 
line  of  circumscription  round  this  mighty  mind  so  as  to 
say  to  itself  4  'I  have  seen  the  whole. "  —Coleridge,  1833. 

Whoever  the  great  dramatist  was,  we  can  form 
no  adequate  conception  of  his  mind;  but  mankind  will 
always  delight  to  scrutinise  something  that  indefenitely 
raises  its  conceptions  of  its  own  powers  and  possibilities, 
and  will  seek,  though  eternally  in  vain,  to  penetrate 
the  secret  of  this  prodigious  intellect.  —  The  Mystery  of 
William  Shakespeare,  Judge  Webb,  1902. 


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238 


Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


York.      My  ashes,  as  the  Phoenix,1  may  bring  forth 
A  bird  that  will  revenge  upon  you  all. 

Third  Henry   /  7. ,   1.4. 


From  one  of  the  original  maps  of  Johann  Bayer's  I'ninowc- 
iria.  1603.  In  viewing  the  map  of  the  original  constellation  I 
would  remind  the  reader  not  to  look  for  the  dotted  lines  or  the 
name;  the  most  powerful  telescope  will  not  reveal  them,  but  the 
sixteen  stars  are  visible  to  the  naked  eye,  not  one  has  been  lost. 
For  the  Peacock's  companion  picture,  see  p.  248. 

1  Kssex  was  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  Duke  of  York,  and  under  the  la\v  could 
easily  have  been  Elizabeth's  successor.      Cp.  his  argument,  Second  Henry  17.. 

IV.    2. 

2  Cp.  Essex's  instructions  to  Henry  Cuffe  touching  foreign  parts,  p.  241, 


BIRDS  OF  A  FEATHER. 

"Mr.  Henry  Cuffe,  the  great  confident  and  one  of 
the  secretaries  of  the  Earl  of  Essex,  had  been  sent  with 
his  lordships  letters  to  England,  and  after  landing  us'd 
the  utmost  expedition  to  arrive  with  them  at  the  court; 
but  falling  ill  on  the  road  was  oblig'd  on  Friday  night 
July  3oth,  [  1506]  to  send  up  his  letters  inclos'd  in  one 
of  his  own  to  Mr.  Reynoldes— 
Good  Mr.  Reynoldes: 

Amongst  other  things  you  shall  recieve  a  discourse 
of  our  great  action  at  Cadiz,  penned  very  truly  accord- 
ing to  his  lordships  large  instructions;  by  which,  besides 
my  own  knowledge,  he  informed  me  of  sundry  partic- 
ulars of  moment  in  the  process  thereof.  And  after  I 
had  penn'd  it  as  plainly  as  I  might,  altering  little  or 
nothing  of  his  own  draught,  I  caused  his  lordship  to  per- 
use it  once  again,  and  to  add  Ext  remain-  Mannw, 
which  he  hath  done,  as  you  may  perceive  by  the  inter- 
lining. His  lordship's  purpose  is,  that  it  should  with 
the  soonest  be  set  in  print,  both  to  stop  all  vagrant  ru- 
mours, and  to  inform  those,  that  are  well  affected,  of 
the  truth  of  the  whole,  yet  so  that  in  any  case  neither 
his  lordship's  name,  nor  mine,  nor  any  other  ....  my 


240  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

lord,  be  either  openly  named,  used,  or  so  insinuated, 
that  any  slender  guess  may  be  drawn,  who  was  the  pen- 
man. My  opinion  is,  that  the  best  course  is  presently 
to  cause  a  fair  transcript  to  be  made,  and  so  either  by 
Mr.  Temple,  or  some  other  less  to  be  suspected  [in  which 
point  I  know  Sir  Anthony  Ashley  will  most  willingly  lend 
you  his  helping  hand]  to  cause  it  to  be  delivered  to  some 
good  printer,  in  good  characters  and  with  diligence,  to 
publish  it.  Which  course  if  you  do  not  dislike,  consider, 
I  pray  you,  whether  this  preface,  which  I  have  in  this 
my  greatest  wearines  and  distemper  scribbled  in  haste, 
be  tolerable;  and  if  not  [as  I  easily  believe]  I  would  wish 
you  to  pen  a  better  of  the  same  argument,  and  prefix  it, 
that  the  whole  may  seem  a  letter  sent  from  Cadiz,  and 
the  title  in  the  title  page  may  be,  A  true  relation  of  the 
action  at  Cadiz  the  2ist  of  June  under  the  Earl  of  Essex 
and  the  lord  admiral,  sent  to  a  gentleman  in  court  from 
one,  that  served  there  in  good  place.  And  withal  confer 
with  Mr  Grevill,  whether  he  can  be  contented  to  suffer 
the  two  first  letters  of  his  name  to  be  used  in  the  in- 
scription: which  if  he  grant,  he  must  be  intreated  not  to 
take  notice  of  the  author,  but  to  give  out,  that  indeed 
he  received  it  amongst  other  papers  by  the  first  messen- 
ger; but  by  the  inscription,  which  may  be  D.  T.  or  some 
other  disguised  name,  [as  you  shall  think  good]  could 


Birds  of  a  Feather.  241 

not  conjecture  the  writer,  only  communicating  it  with 
some  of  good  intelligence,  who  were  present,  and  assured 
him  of  the  truth  thereof,  and  not  altogether  misliking 
the  form,  was  the  earlier  persuaded  to  suffer  it  to  go 
abroad;  by  which  means  it  hath  fallen  into  the  press. 
If  he  be  unwilling,  you  may  put  R.  B.  which  some  no 
doubt  will  interpret  to  be  Beale.  But  it  skills  not.  .  The 
original  you  are  rather  to  keep,  because  my  lord  charged 
me  to  cause  either  you  or  Mons.  Fontaine  to  turn  either 
the  whole  or  the  sum  of  it  into  French,  and  to  cause  it 
to  be  sent  to  some  good  personages  in  those  parts, l  al- 
ways observing  the  courses  before  specified.  And  so 
with  my  hearty  commendations  in  great  haste  I  commit 
you  to  God.  This  weary  Friday  night  late  in  the  even- 
ing. 

Your  most  assured  H.  Cuffe" 

\_Birclis  Elizabeth,  Vol.  II.  p.  81.] 

Note.  Henry  Cuffe  was  born  about  the  year  1560,  and  educated  at  Trinity 
College  in  the  university  of  Oxford,  where  he  took  the  degree  of  bachelor  of 
arts  on  the  i3th  of  June  1580,  and  was  chosen  fellow  of  that  college,  but  after- 
wards obliged  to  resign  his  fellowship  on  account  of  some  words  spoken  by  him 
to  the  discredit  of  the  founder  Sir  Thomas  Pope.  However  he  was  soon  after 
in  1586  elected  probationer  fellow  of  Merton  College,  and  in  1588  master  fellow, 
and  on  the  2Oth  of  February  that  year  took  the  degree  of  master  of  arts.  He 
distinguished  himself  early  by  his  genius  and  learning,  as  appears  from  several 
letters  of  his  in  elegant  Latin  to  John  Hotman,  written  from  Oxford  in  1592, 
and  was  eminent  for  his  skill  in  the  Greek  language,  of  which  he  was  made  pro- 
fessor, and  chosen  proctor  of  the  university  April  loth,  1594,  but  some  time  left 
an  academical  life  to  enter  into  the  service  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  as  his  secretary, 
and  continued  in  it  'till  the  violent  measures,  into  which  he  led  his  patron, 
brought  them  both  to  destruction — Birch's  Elizabeth,  Vol.  II.  p.  82. 

1  Cp.  the  emblems  prepared  by  Johann  Bayer  of  Augsbury,  pp.  238,  248, 

16 


CHRONOLOGY  OF  THE  PLAYS. 

Murder,1  though  it  have  no  tongue,  will  speak 
With  most  miraculous  organ. — Hamlet,  TI.  2. 

.  .  .  The  Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court,  between  the 
years  1588  and  1604,  the  most  interesting  period  in  the 
career  of  Shakspere,  have  not  been  discovered  /;/  the 
depositories  for  such  papers. —  \l\irks  of  Shakspere^ 
Charles  Knight,  p.  726. 

The  efforts  made  by  the  greatest  genius  of  the  age 
[Bacon]2  to  blacken  his  [Essex's]  memory  proved  en- 
tirely unavailing.  Those  most  concerned"  in  his  death 
became  objects  of  indignation  and  aversion.  The  Queen 
lost  her  popularity,  and  passed  the  rest  of  her  life  in  mis- 
ery.—  Cooper's  Athence  Cantabrigenses^  Vol.  II.  p.  299. 


Various  attempts  have  been  made  to  arrange  the 
plays  of  Shakspere,  each  according  to  its  priority  in 
time,  by  proofs  derived  from  external  documents.  How 
unsuccessful  these  have  been  might  easily  be  shown,  not 
only  from  the  widely  different  results  arrived  at  by  men, 
all  deeply  versed  in  the  black-letter  books,  old  plays, 
pamphlets,  manuscript  records  and  catalogues  of  that 
age,  but  also  from  the  fallacious  and  unsatisfactory  nat- 
ure of  the  facts  and  assumptions  on  which  the  evidence 
rests.  ...  In  such  an  age,  and  under  such  circum- 
stances, can  an  allusion  or  reference  to  any  drama  or 
poem  in  the  publication  of  a  contemporary  be  received 
as  conclusive  evidence,  that  such  drama  or  poem  had 
at  that  time  been  published?  Or,  further,  can  the  pri- 

1  Cp.  all  of  p.  221. 

2  Cp.  Mr.  Swinburne  on  the  revision  of  Hamlet,  p.  150,  and  notes,  p.  151. 


Chronology  of  The  Plays.  243 

ority  of  publication  itself  prove  anything  in  favor  of  ac- 
tually prior  composition? — Lectures  On  Shakspere,  Col- 
eridge, pp.  243,  245. 

The  exact  order  of  the  composition  of  the  plays  is 
entirely  unknown,  and  the  attempts  which  have  been 
made  to  arrange  it  into  periods,  much  more  to  rank  play 
after  play  in  regular  sequence,  are  obvious  failures,  and 
are  discredited  not  merely  by  the  inadequate  means- 
such  as  counting  syllables  and  attempting  to  classify  the 
cadence  of  lines — resorted  to  in  order  to  effect  them, 
but  by  the  hopeless  discrepancy  between  the  results  of 
different  investigators  and  of  the  same  investigator  at 
different  times. — History  of  English  Literature,  Saints- 
bury,  p.  164. 

In  the  deep  nook,  where  once 

Thou  call'dst  me  up  at  midnight  to  fetch  dew 
From  the  still-vex'd  Bermoothes. 

The  Tempest,  i.  2. 

'  'The  Tempest"  was  probably  the  latest  drama  that 
Shakespeare  completed.  In  the  summer  of  1609  a 
fleet  bound  for  Virginia,  under  the  command  of  Sir 
George  Somers,  was  overtaken  by  a  storm  off  the  West 
Indies,  and  the  admiral's  ship,  the  ' 'Sea- Venture, "  was 
driven  on  the  coast  of  the  hitherto  unknown1  Bermuda 
Isles. — Life  of  Shakespeare,  Sidney  Lee,  p.  252. 

A  description  of  the  [Bermuda]  islands  by  Henry 
May,  who  was  shipwrecked  on  them  in  1593,  is  given 
in  Hakluyt,  1600,  iii.  pp.  573,  574. — Eighteenth  Century 
Essays  on  Shakespeare,  Nichol  Smith,  p.  314. 

Bermuda. — Group  of  360  coral  islands  in  Atlantic. 
.  .  .  .  Discovered  by  Juan  Bermudez  about  1522.— 
Pocket  Atlas,  Rand,  McNally  &  Co, 

1  Cp.  11.  9,  10,  Son.  74-xcm.  p.  99. 


ESSEX  CLAIMS  THE  AUTHORSHIP. 

Vouchsafe,  dread  Sovereign,  to  know  there  1m  s  a 
man,  though  dead  to  the  world, l  that  doth  more  true 
honor  to  your  thrice  blessed  day,2  than  all  those  that 
appear  in  vour  sight. — Letter,  Essex  to  the  Oitt't'ti.  An- 
niversary of  her  Accession,  Nov.  17,  1600. — Li  :t~s  of  the 
Earls  of  Esst.\\  Vol.  II.  p.  128. 

Muses3  no  more  but  Mazes4  be  yor  nanu-s 
Where  discord  sound  shall  marre  your  concorde  s\v< 
Unkyndly  now  yor  carefull  fancye  frames 
When  fortune  treades  yor  fauvors  under  fet 
But  foule  befalle  that  cursed  Cuckoes5  throt*' 
That  soe  hath  crost  sweet  Philomelaes7  note. 

And  all  unhappie  hatched  was  that  bird 
That  parret-like  can  never  cease  to  prate:  I  ° 
But  most  untymely  spoken  was  that  word 
That  brought  the  world  in  such  a  woefull  state, 
That  Love  and  Likeing  quite  are  overthrown*.- 
And  in  their  place  are  hate  and  sorrowi-s  grownt -. 

Is  this  the  honoure  of  a  haughtie  thought 

Ffor  Lover's  hap  to  have  all  spight  of  Li 

Hath  wreached  skill  thus  blinded  Reason  taught? 

In  this  conceipt  such  discontent  to  moove? 
That  Beautee  so  is  of  her  selfe  berefu 
That  no  good  hope  of  ought  good  hap,  i- 

1  "Seneca  let  blood  line  by  line,  and  page  by  page,  at  length  must  die  to 
our  stagf."     Cp.  .YiisA  on  Hamlet,  p.  209. 

2 The  genius  of  that  time 

Would  leave  to  her  [Elizabeth]  the  glory  in  that  kind, 
And  that  the  utmost  powers  of  English  rhyme 
Should  be  zcithfn  her  peaceful  reign  confined 

Samuel  DatticL  1605,  [cp.  p.   - 
5  The  speaking  characters  of  the  Sonnets  of  1609. 
4  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 
*  The  player  Shakspere,  a  creature  of  the  Crown 
'  '  'Odysseus  aimed  an  arrow  and  hit  him  in  the  throat.  —  7  > 
1  Essex,  the  Nightingale  or  the  honey-tongued  Shake-s; 
8  The  play  of  Hamlet  a  satire  on  the  Court 

244 


Essex  Claims  the  Authorship.  245 

Oh  let  no  Phoenix  looke  upon  a  Crowe1 
Nor  daintye  hills2  bow  downe  to  dirtye  dales:8 
Let  never  Heaven  an  hellish  humour  knowe, 
Nor  firme  affect  give  eare  to  foolish  tales: 
Ffor  this  in  fyne  will  fall  to  be  the  troth 
That  puddle  matter4  makes  unwholesome  broth. 

Woe  to  the  world  the  sonne  is  in  a  cloude 
And  darksome  mists  doth  overrunne  the  day: 
In  hope,  Conceipte  is  not  content  allow'd, 
Favour  must  dye  and  Fancye  weare  awaye: 

Oh  Heavens  what  Hell !    The  bands  of  Love  are  broken  \ 
Nor  must  a  thought  of  such  a  thing  be  spoken.  f  5 

Mars  must  become  a  coward  in  his  mynde 
•  Whiles  Vulcan  standes  to  prate  of  Venus  toyes: 
Beautie  must  seeme  to  go  against  her  kinde4 
In  crossing  Nature  in  her  sweetest  jo3res.() 
But  ah  no  more,  it  is  to  much  to  thinke 
So  pure  a  mouth  should  puddle-watters4  drinke. 

But  since  the  world  is  at  this  woefull  passe 
Let  Love's  submission  Honour's*  wrath  apease: 
Let  not  an  Horse  be  matched  with  an  Asse8 
Nor  hatefull  tongue  an  happie  hart  disease. 

So  shall  the  world  commend  a  sweet  conceipte,9 
And  humble  Fayth  on  heavenly  honour  waite. 

Poems  of  Essex. 

[From  Harleian  MS.   6910,  Fol.    151,  signed   "Finis  Comes 
Essex."      Thence  printed  in  "  Exc.   Tudor,"  Vol.  I.  p.  33.] 

This  poem  in  MS.  has  no  title,  the  late  Dr.  Gro- 
sart  who  edited  the  Poems  of  Essex,  Miscellanies  of  the 
Fuller  Worthies  Library,  Vol.  IV.  p.  82,  in  giving  the 
name  "A  Loyal  Appeal  in  Courtesy  "  says  i(I  have  given 
a  heading  to  the  poem  indicative  of  the  probable  cir- 
cumstance out  of  which  it  sprang." 

1  Cp.  Act  V.  Scene  3,  p.  160.         2  The  Sonnets  in  dramatic  form. 

3  A  personal  or  "Dark  Lady    interpretation  of  the  Sonnets. 

*  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Creta'n  labyrinth. 

5  The  play  of  Hamlet,  a  satire  on  the  Court. 

0  Mother  Nature  herself  a  dramatist.     Cp.  Spenser's  lines,  p.  10. 

7  Cp.  Essex  as  Virgil  in  the  Poetaster,  pp.  229,  230. 

8  The  player  Shakspere,  a  Creature  of  the  Crown. 

9  The  Phoenix  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won  or  The  Enacted  Will. 


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248 


Shake-spectre  England 's  Ulysses, 


As  when 

The  bird  of  wonder  dies,  the  maiden  phoenix,1 

Her  ashes2  new  create  another  heir 

[When  heaven  shall  call  her.  from  this  cloud  of  darkness*] 
.   .   .  Who  ....  shall  star-like  rise4  .... 
And  so  stand  fix'd.3 

Henry  VIIL,  v.  4. 


She2  was  to  him  th'  analisde  world  of  pleasure, 
Her  Jinn  nesse  clot  lid  him  in  rarietic; 
Excesse  of  all  things,  he  joyd  in  her  measure, 
Mourn'd  when  she  mourn'd,  and  dieth  when  she  dies. 
In  Allusion  to  the  Pha-nix*  Geo.  Chapman  in  Lore's  Martyr,  p.  188, 

1  The  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  Dismantled  Masque. 

2  The  Phoenix  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won  or  The  Enacted  Will. 

3  Not  applicable  to  a  monarch. 

*  Cp.  the  Acrostic  at  the  termination  of  the  Dramatis  Personae,  p.  24. 
5  Cp.  note  i,  p.  247. 


THE  PHOENIX  ANALYZED 

— OR— 

THE  RETURN  OF  ULYSSES  A  STAR-LIKE  RISING. 


Loord  Shakespeare  lyes  whom  none  but  death  could  shake, 
And  here  shall  ly  till  judgement  all  awake, 
When  the  last  trumpet  doth  unclose  his  eyes 
The  wittiest  poet  in  the  world  shall  rise. 

Anonymous. 

77ft:  Phoenix  Analysed. 
Now,  after  all,  let  no  man 

Receive  it  for  a  fable, 

If  a  bird  so  amiable 
Do  turn  into  a  woman.3 

Or,  by  our  Turtle's4  Augurie 
That  Natures  fairest  creature,5 
Prove  of  his  mistress  feature 

But  a  bare  type  and  figure.3 

Ben  Jonson  in  Love's  Martyr,  1601. 

1  On  a  fly-leaf  of  a  copy  of  the  1623  Folio,  owned  by  the  Messrs.  Christie  in 
1888. 

2  The  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  Dismantled  Masque. 

3  Cp.    notes    on    "Valerius    Terminus   of  the  Interpretation    of  [Mother] 
Xa/itre,"  pp.  89  and  91. 

4  England's  Wooden  Horse,  or  the  Dramatis  Personte  of  the  Masque. 

5  Mother  Nature  herself  a  dramatist.      Cp.  Spenser's  lines  frontispage  10. 


249 


250  Shake-speare  England's    Ulysses, 

PHYSICS  NOBLE  SCIENCE. 

Ere  we  pass  lie  show  some  excellence 
Of  other  herbs  in  physics  noble  science. 

Mother  Nature  in  Lore" s  Martyr,  p.  92. 

The  mounting  Phoenix,  chast  desire,  ( 
This  vertue  fram'd,  to  conquer  vice,  J  * 
This  not-seene  Nimph,  this  heatlesse  fire, 
This  chast  found  bird,  of  noble  price, 

Was  nam'de  Avisa  by  decree, 

That  name  and  nature  might  agree. 

Henry   Willob.ie*  in   Will  obi  is  Art's  a,  p.   152. 

Branches  he  bore  of  that  enchanted  stem, 
Laden  with  flower  and  fruit,  whereof  he  gave 
To  each,  but  whose  did  receive  .... 
And  taste,  to  him  the  gushing  of  the  wave 
Far,  far  away  did  seem  to  mourn  and  rave 
On  alien  shores;  and  if  his  fellow  spake, 
His  voice  was  thin,  as  voices  from  the  grave; 
And  deep  asleep  he  seem'd  yet  all  awake, 
And  music  in  his  ears  his  beating  heart  did  make. 
Adventures  of  Ulysses,  after  Tennyson. 

Her  breasts  two  crystal  orbs  of  whitest  white,3 
Two  little  mounts  from  whence  lifes  comfort  springs. 
Betweene  those  hillocks  Cupid  doth  delight 
To  sit  and  play,  and  in  that  valley  sings: 
Looking  love-babies  in  her  wanton  eyes, 
That  all  gross  vapors  thence  doth  chastesize. 

Robert  Chester*  in  Love's  Martyr,  p.  12. 

Whoever  tasted  once  of  that  sweet  food, 
Wished  not  to  see  his  native  country  more, 
Nor  give  his  friends  the  knowledge  of  his  fate. 
And  then  my  messengers  desired  to  dwell 
Among  the  Lotus-eaters,  and  to  feed 
Upon  the  lotus,  never  to  return.4 

Adventures  of  Ulysses,  Homer.      [Bryant's  tr.] 

1  The  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won.     Cp.  sub-note  2,  p.  37. 

2  For  the  identity  of  this  hitherto  unknown  and  never-again-heard-of  poet, 
see  pen  names  of  Essex,  frontispiece. 

3  Cp.  Ben  Jonson's  lines  on  the  Phosnix,  p.  255. 

*  Cp.  notes  from  Messrs.  Gollancz  and  Lee,  pp.  48,  49. 


The  Phoenix  Analyzed.  251 


"A  WORK  THAT  HATH  GREAT  GLORY  WON." 

Thomas  Churchyard's  lines  on  a  dismantled  Play 
that  pleased  not  the  million  but  was  caviare  to  the 
General  of  our  gracious  Empress. 

"Verses  of  value,  if  vertue  bee  scene, 
Made  of  a  Phenix,  a  King,  and  a  Queene." 

Till  that  at  large,  our  royall  Phenix  comes,1 

Packe  hence  poore  men,  or  picke  your  fingers  endes, 

Or  blow  your  nailes,  or  gnaw  and  bite  your  thombs, 

Till  God  above,  some  better  fortune  sends. 

Who  here  abides,  till  this  bad  world  emends, 

May  doe  full  well,  as  tides  doe  ebbe  and  flow, 

So  fortune  turnes,  and  haps  doe  come  and  goe. 

God  send  some  helpe,  to  solve  sick  poore  mens  sores,] 

A  boxe  of  baulme,  would  heale  our  woundes  up  quite:  I 

That  precious  oyle,  would  eat  out  rotten  cores, 

And  give  great  health,  and  man  his  whole  delighte.       J 

God  send  some  sunne,  in  frostie  morning  white, 

That  cakes  of  ice  may  melt  by  gentle  thaw, 

And  at  well-head  wee  may  some  water  drawe. 

Ther  needes  no  Poets  pen,  nor  painters  pencel,  come  in  place, 
Nor  flatring  frase  of  men,  whose  filed  spech  gives  ech  thing  grace, 
To  praise  this  worthy  dame,  a  Nimph  which  Dian  holds  full  deer3 
That  in  such  perfect  frame,  as  mirror  bright  and  christal  cleer 
Is  set  out  to  our  view,  threefold  as  faire  as  shining  Sunne, 
For  beauty  grace  and  hue,  a  workc  that  hath  great  glory  won, 
A  Goddes  dropt  from  sk}",  for  causes  wore  than  men  may  know, 
To  please  both  minde  and  eie  for  those  that  dwels  on  earth  below, 
And  shew  what  heavenly  grace,  and  noble  secret  power  divine 
Is  scene  in  Princely  face,  that  kind  hath  formed  and  framd  so  fine** 
For  this  is  all  I  write,  of  sacred  Phenix1  ten  times  blest, 
To  shew  mine  own  delite,  as  fancies  humor  thinketh  best." 

Churchyard's  Challenge,*  1593- 

[For    the  context  cp.    Dr.    Grosarfs  Introduction  to  Love's 
Martyr,  pp.  xxix.,  xxx.,  xxxi.] 

1  The  Phoenix  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won  or  The  Enacted  Will. 

2  Cp.  sub-note  2,  p.  37 

3  Cp.  Ben  Jonson's  lines,  p.  255. 

*  Cp.  note  i,  p.  230,  and  Spenser's  "base  born  men,"  p.   10. 
5  Cp.  Penelope's  Challenge,  p.    19. 


252 


Shake-speare  England's   Ulysses, 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  "SWEET  CONCEIT. 

So  shall  the  world  commend  a  sweet  conceipte, 
And  humble  faith  on  heavenly  honor  waite. 

Poems  of  Essex.      [Cp.  the  context,  p.  245.] 

Athene.      Father,  whose  oath  in  hollow  hell  is  heard; 
Whose  act  is  lightning  after  thunder-word; 
A  boon!  a  boon!  that  I  compassion  find 
For  one,  the  most  unhappy  of  mankind. 

How  is  he  named? 


Zeus. 

Athene. 


Zeus.. 

Athene. 


Ulysses,  he  who  planned 
To  take  the  towered  city  of  Troy-land;1 
A  mighty  spearsman,2  and  a  seaman  wise, 
A  hunter,  and  at  need  a  lord  of  lies  .... 


What  wouldst  thou. 

This!  that  he  at  last  may  view 
The  smoke  of  his  own  fire  upcurling  blue. 
Ulysses,  A  Drama,  Stephen  Phillips,   1902. 


1  Spiritually,   the  Sonnets  of  1609  are  the  Citadel  of  Troy.     The  Dramatis 
Personae  of  the  Sonnets  being  the  Wooden  Horse  containing  the  name  of  Ulyss- 
es-Essex. 

2  Cp.  sub-note  i,  p.  113. 


The  Phoenix  Analyzed.  253 


LINES  OF  THE  MASQUE. 

The  evolution  of  all  things  is  explained  by  the  play 
of  three  forces,  Necessity,  Love  and  Hatred. — Emped- 
ocles. 

I  ntellectnal=  Rarity-Wonder-Knowledge-Wisdom-Truth.1 
Mora/=  Love-Reason-Grace-Beauty-Art.1 
AV/Asv/tf/— Desire-Envy-Hope-Ambition-Folly . L 

By  what  extraordinary  instinct  did  he  divine  the 
remote  conclusions,  the  deepest  insights  of  physiology 
and  psychology? — History  of  English  Literature,  Taine. 

Fair,  kind,  and  true'  is  all  my  argument, 
'Fair,  kind,  and  true'  varying  to  other  words; 
And  in  this  change  is  my  invention  spent, 
Three  themes  4n  one,  which  wondrous  scope  affords. 
'Fair,  kind,  and  true,'  have  often  liv'd  alone, 
Which  three,  till  now,  never  kept  seat  in  one. 

[Cp.  Sonnet  8-cv.  p.  33.] 

Shakespeare  was  too  good  a  philosopher  to  exhibit 
all  paths  as  leading  alike  to  bliss;  but  he  shows  how  of 
the  two  [?]  kinds  of  love  which  he  sings,  one  [?]  toils 
steadily  upwards  in  spite  of  occasional  lapses,  the  other 
rapidly  descends  in  spite  of  occasional  halts.  — Philosophy 
of  Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  Richard  Simpson. 

1  Cp.  the  framework  of  the  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  Masque,  p.  24. 


254  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


THE  PYTHAGOREAN  TRANSMIGRATION.1 

O  'twas  a  moving  EpicidiumP 

Can  fire?  can  Time?  can  blackest  Fate  consume 

So  rare  creation?     No;  'tis  thwart  to  sence, 

Corruption  quakes  to  touch  such  excellence, 

Nature  exclaimes  for  Justice,  Justice  Fate, 

Ought  into  nought  can  never  remigrate. 

Then  looke;  for  see  what  glorious  issue  [brighter 

Then  clearest  fire,  and  beyond  faith  farre  whiter 

Then  Dians  tier]  now  springs  from  yonder  flame? 

Let  me  stand  numb'd  with  wonder,  never  came 
So  strong  amazement  on  astonish'd  eie 
As  this,  this  measureless  pure  Raritie. 

Lo  now;  th'  extracture  of  devinest  Essence, 
The  Soule  of  heavens  labour 'd  Quintessence, 
\_Peans  to  PJia>bus\  from  deare  Lovers  death, 
Takes  sweete  creation  and  all  blessing  breath. 

What  strangenesse  is't  that  from  the  Turtles  ashes 
Assumes  such  forme?  [whose  splendor  clearer  flashes, 
Then  mounted  Delius\  tell  me  genuine  Muse. 

Now  yeeld  your  aides,  you  spirites  that  infuse* 
A  sacred  rapture,  light  my  weaker  eie: 
Raise  my  invention  on  swift  Phantasie, 
That  whilst  of  this  same  Metaphisicall 
God,  Man,  nor  Woman,  but  elix'd  of  all 
My  labouring  thoughts,  with  strained  ardor  sing, 
My  Muse  may  mount  with  an  uncommon  wing. 
///  Allusion  to  the  Pha>nix<  John  Marston  in  Lore's  Mart\i\  p.  185. 

1  There  never  was  a  greater  Genius  in  the  World  than  Virgil.1     He  was  one 
who  seems  to  have  been  born  for  this  glorious  end,  that  the  Roman  Muse  might 
exert  in  him  the  utmost  force  of  her  Poetry  .  .  .  .Could  the  greatest  Genius  that 
ever  was  infus'd  intD  earthly  mold  by  Heaven,  if  it  had  been  unguided  and  un- 
assisted by  Art,  have  taught  him  to  make  that  noble  and  wonderfull   Use  of  the 
Pythagorean  Transmigration,  which  he  makes  in  the  Sixth  Book  of  his  Poem? 
—  On  the  Genius  ami  M'rithiffs  of  Shakespeare,  John  Dennis,  1711. 

2  Cp.  note  i,  p.  no. 

:i  The  poem  of   The  Win-nix  and  Turtle  Dove,  the  Dramatis  Personse  of  the 
Masque. 

1  Epistle,  dedicatory  to  the  l^rl  Marshal  \  Essex!  -'To  the  Understancler',  Shield  of  \chillts 
Chapmans  deepest  concern  is  lest  he  should  be  thought  a  malicious  detractor  of  so  admired  a 
poet  as  Virgil. A  -MiakespearSs  Poems.  U'yndhani,  p.  Lxv. 

1  Cp.  Essex  as  Virgil  in  the  Poetaster,  p.  230. 


The  Phoenix  Analyzed.  255 


ALL  IS  MIND.1 

Nor  all  the  ladies  of  the  Thespian  Lake, 
Though  they  were  crushed  into  one  form,  could  make 
A  beauty  of  that  merit,  that  should  take 
Our  muse  up  by  commission:      No,  we  bring 
Our  own  true  fire;  Now  our  thought  takes  wing, 
And  now  an  Epode  to  deep  ears  we  sing. 
///  Allusion  to  the  PJia'nix,  Ben  Jonson  in  Love's  Martyr,  p.  190. 

Phoenix- — A  bird  of  great  beauty,  existing  single,  after  living 
five  hundred  years  it  builds  for  itself  a  funeral  pile  of  spices  and 
aromatic  gums,  and  is  fabled  to  be  consumed  by  fire  by  its  own 
act,  and  from  its  ashes  to  rise  again  to  its  "sun  bright  seats;" 
hence  an  emblem  of  truth,  of  immortality,  and  of  the  resurrection. 
— Passim. 

Would  not  this,  sir,  and  a  forest  of  feathers* — if  the  rest  of 
my  fortunes  turn  Turk  with  me — with  two  Provincial  roses  on 
my  razed  shoes, A  get  me  a  fellowship  in  a  cry  of  players,  sir? — 
Hamlet,  TIT.  2. 

(  The  Sonnets    of    1609    a   Dismantled 
Shake-speare  s  Phoenix=  ->  ,_ 

(  Masque. 

(  The    poem    of  The  Phoenix    and 
Turtle     Dove      [containing     the 

,  name  of   Ulysses-Essex  and  the 
Shake-speare  s   1  urtle  Dove=  -, 

twentv-two     executors       01     the 
[England  s  Wooden  Horse] 

Will],  the  Dramatis  Personae  of 
[the  Masque. 

1 All  is  mind, 

As  far  from  spot,  as  possible  defining. 

John  Mar  si  on  in  Loi'e' s  Martyr,  p.  188. 

a  The  twenty-two  characters  of  the  Phoenix  Masque  are  muses  or  gods. 
3  Cp.  Mr.  Massey's  lines,  on  note  i,  p.  73. 


256  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

With  the  Egyptians,  "there  is  also  another  bird 
called  the  Phoenix  .  .  .  They  say  that  he  comes  from 
Arabia  and  seldom  makes  its  appearance  amongst  them, 
only  once  in  five  hundred  years,  as  the  Heliopolitans 
affirm:  They  say  that  it  comes  on  the  death  of  its  sire 
.  .  .  and  brings  the  body  of  his  fat  her  to  tJic  t  CHI  file  of  the 
sun."1  —Herodotus,  70-73. 

There  is  one  bird  which  renews  and  reproduces 
itself.  The  Assyrians  call  it  the  Phoenix.  This  bird 
when  it  has  completed  the  five  ages  of  its  life,  constructs 
for  itself  a  nest  on  the  top  of  a  quivering  palm.  As  soon 
as  it  has  strewed. in  this  cassia  and  ears  of  sweet  spike- 
nard and  bruised  cinamon  with  yellow  myrrh,  it  lays 
itself  down,  and  finishes  its  life  in  the  midst  of  odors. 
They  say  that  thence,  from  the  body  of  its  parent,  is 
produced  a  little  Phoenix,  which  is  destined  to  live  as 
many  years.  \\lien  time  has  given  it  strength,  and  it 
is  able  to  bear  the  weight,  it  lightens  the  brandies  of  the 
lofty  tree  of  the  burden  of  the  nest,  and  dutifully  carries 
both  its  own  cradle  and  the  sefiulcher  of  its  fiarent, ]  and 
lays  it  down  before  the  sacred,  doors  in  the  temple  of 
Hyperion. — Mctaniorfihoscs  of  Ovid?  B.  XV.  389-414. 

Arabian  Phoenix,  a  mythical  bird  of  which  only  one 
specimen  could  be  alive  at  a  time.  After  living  500  years 
it  erected  for  itself  a  funeral  pyre,  which  the  sun  ignited, 
and  out  of  the  ashes  of  the  former  bird  sprang  a  new  one. 
The  Phoenix  was  supposed  to  inhabit  the  Tree  of  the 
Knowledge  of  Good  and  Evil,  called  Razin,  on  the  site  of 
the  Garden  of  Eden.  —  Old  I^ortunatus  [Oliphant  Smea- 
ton,  Ed.],  p.  140. 

1  The  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  Dismantled  Masque  —"only  by  dying,  horn  the  very 
same."  Cp.  Drayton's  lines,  p.  246. 

*  No  student  of  Shakespeare  needs  reminding  that  all  his  early,  and  even  his 
later  works  are  full  of  reminiscences  of  Ovid.  In  the  extent  of  his  indebtedness 
to  Ovid,  he  stands  alone  among  Elizabethan  poets.-  .SV//<//V.v  in  Shakespeare, 
/.  Oiurton  Collins,  p.  116. 


The  Phoenix  Analyzed.  257 

THE  PHOENIX1  AND  TURTLE  DOVE.3 

[WILLIAM  SHAKE-SPEARE'S  WILL.] 

From  the   additional   poems  to  Robert  Chester's  Love's  Mar- 
tyr, or  Rosalinds  Complaint*  1601. 


W 


A 


Let  the  bird  of  lowdest  lay, 

On  the  sole  Arabian  tree, 

Herauld  sad  and  trumpet  be: 

To  whose  sound  chaste  wings  obay.  | 


With  the  breath  thou  giv'st  and  tak'st, 
Mongst  our  mourners  shalt  thou  go. 

Here  the  Antheme  doth  commence, 
Love  and  Constancie  is  dead, 
Pha'ni^  and  the  Turtle'1  fled, 
In  a  mutuall  flame  from  hence. 


But  thou  shriking  harbinger, 

IFoule  precurrer  of  the  fiend,  T 

Augour  of  the  fevers  end, 
To  this  troupe  come  thou  not  neere.  J 

From  this  Session  interdict 

LEven^  foule  of  tyrant  wing, 
Save  the  Eagle,  feath'red  King,  *-* 

Keepe  the  obsequie  so  strict. 

Let  the  Priest  in  Surples  white,   1 
That  defunctive  Musicke  can, 

f~*  Be  the  death-devining  Swan,  -•— J 

Lest  the  Requiem  lacke  his  right,  j 

And  thou  treble  dated  Crow, 

I  That  thy  sable  gender  mak'st,  T 

With   tVm  hr^ath   tVinii    criv'ct   pnrl    tak'^t.  -i- 


1  The  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  Dismantled  Masque. 

~  England's  Wooden  Horse  or  the  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  Masque. 
3  Over  a  buried  play,  "One  none-like  Lily  in  Uie  earth  I  placed."  —  Mother 
\ttlurt'  to  /()(><'  in  Lo~i'c~  s  Martyr,  p.   10. 

*  For  the  probably  correct  solving  of  the  five  riddles  cp.  pp.  260  to  264. 

17 


258  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

So  they  loved  as  love  in  twaine, 

MHad  the  essence  but  in  one,  IVT 

Two  distincts,  Division  none, 
Number  there  in  love  was  slaine. 

Hearts  remote,  yet  not  asunder; 

S  Distance  and  no  space  was  scene,  O 

Twixt  this  Turtle  and  his  (Jueene;  ^ 

But  in  them  it  were  a  wonder. 

So  betweene  them  Love  did  shine, 

T  T  That  the  Turtle1  saw  his  right,  T  T 

Flaming  in  the  Phanix*  sight; 
Either  was  the  others  mine. 

Propertie  was  thus  appalled, 

A  That  the  selfe  was  not  the  same:  A 

Sinle  Natures  double  name  ±JL 


K 


Single  Natures  double  name, 
Neither  two  nor  one  was  called. 

Reason  in  itselfe  confounded, 
Saw  Division  grow  together, 
To  themselves  yet  either  neither, 
Simple  were  so  well  compounded. 

That  it  cried,  how  true  a  twaine, 
Seemeth  this  concordant  one, 
Love  hath  Reason,  Reason  none, 
If  what  parts,  can  so  remaine. 

Whereupon  it  made  this   Thrcnc. 
To  the  Pha>nix*  and  the  Dorc? 
Co-supremes  and  starres  of  Love, 
As  Chorus  to  their  Tragique  Scene. 


1  Allegory  for  the  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  Masque. 

2  The  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  dismantled  Masque. 


The  PJioenix  Analyzed.  259 

THRENOS. 

Beautie,1  Truth,1  and  Raritie,1 

Grace1  in  all  simplicitie,  H 

Here  enclosed,  in  cinders  lie. 

Death  is  now  the  Phanix  nest, 
And  the  Turtles  loyall  brest, 
To  eternitie  doth  rest. 

.  Leaving  no  posteritie, 

/\  Twas  not  their  infirmitie,  H 

It  was  married  Chastitie. 

-_  Truth  may  seeme,  but  cannot  be,  '    *-N2 

j^  Beautie  bragge,  but  tis  not  she,  r 

Truth1  and  Beautie1  buried  be. 

_  To  this  urne  let  those  repaire,  _  3 

|H  That  are  either  true  or  faire,  p^ 

For  these  dead  Birds,  sigh  a  prayer. 


Wtll 


am 


1  Characters  in  the  Masque.      Cp.  the  Dramatis  Personae,  p.  24. 

2  Falstaff.     What  said  Master  Dumbleton  about  the  satin  for  my  short  cloak, 
and  my  slops? 

Page.     He  said,  sir,  you  should  procure  him  better  assurance;  he  liked  not 
the  security. — Second  Henry  //*.,  i.  2. 

3  The  signature  is  from  a  photograph  of  the  original  in  the  British  Museum. 
In   Love's  Martyr  the   eighteen   letter  spelling  of  the   poet's  hyphenated  sig- 
nature is  cunningly  witnessed   [by  signatures  to   their   own    collateral  Phoenix 
poetry]  by  Marston,   Chapman  and   lonson.      For  the  undisputed  sixteen  letter 
spelling  of  the  signature  appended  to  the  Player's  will  in  1616,  see  note  3,  p.  237. 


260  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


T    ET  the  bird  of  loudest  lay, ' 

u  °  uthe/°le  ,A/ablan;  V- 6?'  -  Knowledge. 4 

Herald  sad  and  trumpet  be. 

To  whose  sound  chaste  wings  obey.  | 


1  "Ignorance  is  the  curse  of  God, 

Knocvledge,  the  wing  wherewith  we  fly  to  heaven." 
Second  Hcnrv  /'/.,  iv.  7. 

2  By  art  in  dissimulation  Shake-speare  has  juggled  with  Herodotus  and  Ovid 
and  veiled  his  meaning  under  relative  matter — confounding,  by  the  proximity  of 
the  title  to  the  second  line  of  the  poem,  the  disputed  origin  of  the  Phoenix, — 
Arabia- Assyria,  with  an  Assyrian  bird  about  whose  origin  there  is  no  dispute 
"that   angel  knowledge."5     The  key  to  the  five  riddles,   similar  to  the  casket 
scene  in  The  Mer.  of  Venice,  is  given  in  the  closing  lines  of   Marstons  Perfcc- 
tioni  Hymnusf  "all  is  mind,"  confirmed  by  the  prophecy  in  Henry  /'///. 

"As  when 

The  bird  of  wonder  dies,  the  m<tiden  /'/m>//\.' 

Her  ashes  new  create  another  heir, 

[When  Heaven  shall  call  her  from  (his  cloud  of  darkness}* 

Who,  from  the  sacred  Ashes  of  her  Honour* 

Shall  Star-like  rise  ....   and  so  stand  fix'd."8 

Henry   I'll/.,  \.  4. 

3  Eve's  tree  of  knowledge. 

"All  knowledge  appeareth  to  be  a  plant  of  God's  own  planting."     Cp.  note  i, 
p.  108. 

*  Confirmed  by  the  sixth  and  ninth  lines  of  Son.  yo-xx.  p.  95. 
"Gilding  the  object  whereupon  it  gazeth." 
"And  for  a  woman  wert  thou  first  created." 

5  "That  angel  Knowledge,"  [L.  L.  Lost,  i.  il. 

6  Cp.  Love's  Martyr,  p.  188,  [bottom  paging]. 

7  The  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  dismantled  Masque. 

8  Not  applicable  to  a  being  of  flesh  and  blood. 

9  Their  love  [The  Masque  and  The  Dramatis  Persona)  of  the  Masque!  was  "married  chas- 


The Phoenix  Arialyzed.  261 


T)UT  thou  shrieking  harbinger, 

-•-'Foul  pre-currer  of  the  fiend,        |  ^.        i 

Auger  of  the  fever's  end, 

To  this  troop  come  thou  not  near. 


1  Character  addressed  by  Knowledge,  Son.  56-cxxm. 

Kiioicled^c :     No!  Time,  thou  shalt  not  boast  that  I  do  change:1 
Thy  pyramids  built  up  with  newer  might 
To  me  are  nothing  novel,  nothing  strange; 
They  are  but  dressings  of  a  former  sight. 2 
Our  dates  are  brief,  and  therefore  we  admire 
What  thou  dost  foist  upon  us  that  is  old, 
And  rather  make  them  born  to  our  desire 
Than  think  that  we  'before  have  heard  them  told: 
Thy  registers  and  thee  I  both  defy, 1 
Not  wond'ring  at  the  present  nor  the  past, 
For  thy  records,  and  what  we  see  doth  lie, 
Made  more  or  less  by  thy  continual  haste: 
This  I  do  vow  and  this  shall  ever  be; 
I  will  be  true,  despite  thy  scythe  and  thee. 

1  "His  climbing  was  a  throwing  down."     Cp.  note  i,  p.  78. 

2  A  favorite  argument  of  Socrates,  "Knowledge  is  nothing  but  reminiscence." — The Phaedo, 
or  The  Immortality  uf  the  Soul,  Plato. 


262  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


T^ROM  this  session  interdict, 
*  Every  fowl  of  tyrant  wing,        j  ~          3 
Save  the  eagle,1  feather'd  king:2  |r 
Keep  the  obsequy  so  strict. 


L  "Jove's  bird," — Cymbeline,  iv.  2.      "The  holy  eagle,"  —  Cymbeline,  v.  4. 
2  "Two  such  opposed  Kings  encamp  them  still 
In  man  as  well  as  herbs,  Grace  and  rude  will." 
Rom.  and  Jitl. ,  n.  3. 

3  One  of  four  characters  of  the  Masque  boldly  mentioned  in  the  fourteenth 
stanza  of  the  "Will:" — 

"Beauty,  Truth,  and  Rarity 
Grace  in  all  simplicity, 
Here  enclosed  in  cinders  lie." 

The  Phoenix  and  Turtle  Dove. 

The  god  of  Knowledge  being  in  love  w\i\\  Mot  her  .\\ttnre,  the  supposed  cru- 
cial Sonnet  6y-cxLiv  is  a  sympathetic  appeal  by  the  god  of  Grace  to  the  goddess 
Hope. 
Grace  to  Hope. 

Two  loves  I  have  of  comfort  and  despair, 
Which  like  two  spirits  do  suggest  me  still: 
The  better  angel1  is  a  man  right  fair, 
The  worser  spirit  a  woman8  colour'd  ill. 
To  win  me  soon  to  hell,  my  female  evil 
Tempteth  my  better  angel  from  my  side, 
And  would  corrupt  my  saint  to  be  a  devil, 
Wooing  his  purity  with  her  foul  pride. 
And  whether  that  my  angel  be  turn'd  fiend 
Suspect  I  may,  yet  not  directly  tell; 
But  being  both  from  me,  both  to  each  friend, 
I  guess  one  angel  in  another's  hell: 

Yet  this  shall  I  ne'er  know,  but  live  in  doubt, 
Till  my  bad  angel  fire  my  good  one  out. 

1  The  god  of  Knowledge.     "That  Angel  Knowledge,"  L.  L.  Lost,  i.  i. 

2  Mother  Nature.     Cp.  note  2,  p.  57. 


The  Phcenix  Analyzed.  263 


T    ET  the  priest  in  surplice  white, 
••--'That  defunctive  music  can,  I  ^         3 

Be  the  death  divining  swan, !  | 

Lest  the  requiem2  lack  his  right. 


1 "I  have  seen  a  swan 

With  bootless  labour  swim  against  the  tide, 
And  spend  her  strength  with  overmatching  waves." 
Third  Henry  VI.,  i.  4. 

"Let  music  sound  while  he  doth  make  his  choice; 
Then,  if  he  lose,  he  makes  a  swan-like  end, 
Fading  in  music." 

Afer.  of  Venice,  in.  2. 

"I  appear  to  you  to  be  inferior  to  swans  with  respect  to  divination,  who, 
when  they  perceive  that  they  must  needs  die,  though  they  have  been  used  to 
sing  before,  sing  then  more  than  ever,  rejoicing  that  they  are  about  to  depart 
to  that  deity  whose  servants  they  are."—  ^-The  Phaedo,  or  The  Immortality  of 
The  Soid.  Plato. 
Hope  to  Knoicledge,  85-01 V. 

To  me,  fair  fiiend,  you  never  can  be  old, 

For  as  you  were  when  first  your  eye  I  eyed, 

Such  seems  your  beauty  still.     Three  Winters  cold 

Have  from  the  forests  shook  three  Summers  pride; 

Three  beauteous  springs  to  yellow  autumn  turn'd, 

In  process  of  the  seasons  have  I  seen; 

Three  April  perfumes  in  three  hot  Junes  burn'd, 

Since  first  I  saw  you  fresh,  which  yet  are  green.* 

Ah!  yet  doth  beauty,  like  a  dial-hand, 

Steal  from  his  figure  and  no  pace  perceiv'd; 

So  your  sweet  hue,  which  methinks  still  doth  stand, 

Hath  motion,  and  mine  eye  may  be  deceiv'd: 
For  fear  of  which,  hear  this,  thou  age  unbred; 
Ere  you  were  born  was  beauty's  summer  dead. 

*  The  characters  in  the  masque  [excepting  Father  Time  and  Mother  Nature]  are  Pytha- 
goreans Icp.  Son.  21-xi.l.  Time  of  the  play  five  years —each  Act  a  year.  The  Souls  which  now 
are  about  to  abandon  Act  3  and  become  Ambition  and  Wisdom  in  Act  4,  were  Uesz're  and  Rar- 
ity in  the  first  Act. 


264  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ND  thou  treble-dated1  crow,  ~ 

That  thy  sable  gender  mak'st  (  Nature 

With  the  breath  thou  givest  and  tak'st,   [ 
'Mongst  our  mourners  shalt  thou  go. 


1  Point  of  contact  between  the  Sonnets  of  1609  and  the  poem  of  The  Fha>nix 
and  Turtle  Dore,  namely,  Sonnets  6o-Lxx.  and  8i-cxm.  and  the  above  stanza. 
The  Crow  is  mentioned  once  in  Venus  and  Adonis  and  once  in  the  Lucrece, 
not  at  all  in  The  Lover' s  Complaint . 

2  The  "dark  lady  of  the  sonnets"  and  emblem  of  Mother  Nature  in  the  anti- 
masque — In  again  departing  from  tradition  Shake-speare  has  availed  himself  of 
relative,  though  more  pronounced  ludicrous  matter. 

3  "Joachim  Camerarius  [1596]  quoting  Gesner  for  authority,  remarks  how  in 
the  solar  rays,  hawks  or  falcons,  throwing  off  their  old  feathers,  are  accustomed 
to  set  right  their  defects  and  so  to  renew  their  youth." — Shakespeare  and  I  fie 
Emblem  Writers,  //.  Greene,  p.  369. 

Aside  from  the  main  purpose  of  the  comedy  [the  exploiting  of  the  Will]  the 
antithetical  arrangement  of  the  Dramatis  Personae  demanded  the  substitution 
of  a  carion  bird  and  I  believe  that  henceforth  the  crow  and  not  the  hawk  or 
falcon  will  be  recognized  as  the  emblem  of  Nature. 
Folly  to  Mother  Nature,  138-cxxx. 

My  mistress'  eyes  are  nothing  like  the  sun; 
Coral  is  far  more  red  than  her  lips'  red; 
If  snow  be  white,  why  then  her  breasts  are  dun; 
If  hairs  be  wires,  black  wires  grow  on  her  head. 
I  have  seen  roses  damask'd,  red  and  white, 
But  no  such  roses  see  I  in  her  cheeks; 
And  in  some  perfumes  is  there  more  delight 
Than  in  the  breath  that  from  my  mistress  reeks. 
I  love  to  hear  her  speak,  yet  well  I  know 
That  music  hath  a  far  more  pleasing  sound; 
I  grant  I  never  saw  a  goddess  go; 
My  mistress,  when  she  walks,  treads  on  the  ground: 
And  yet,  by  heaven,  I  think  my  love  as  rare 
As  any  she  belied  with  false  compare. 


The  Phoenix  Analyzed. 


265 


THE  PSYCHOLOGICAL  PROGRESSION. 

All   things   spring  from  motion,   and  the  relation  that  they 
bear  to  each  other. — Introduction,   The  Theaetetus,  Plato. 

Stand  by  fair  Phoenix,  spread  thy  wings  of  gold, 
And  daunt  the  face  of  Heaven  with  thine  eye, 
Like  Junos  bird  thy  beauty  do  unfold, 
And  thou  shalt  triumph  o'er  thine  enemy: 
Then  thou  and  I  in  Phoebus  coach  will  fly, 
Where  thou  shalt  see  and  taste  a  secret  fire, 
That  will  add  spreading-  life  to  thy  desire. 
Mother  Nature  to  The  Phoenix,  Love's  Martyr,  p.  27. 


Act  I.       Act  II. 


Act  III. 


Act  IV.  I  Act  V. 


Rarity 

Wonder 

lia  Knowledge*^  Wisdom 

Truth 

Love 

Reason 

«       Grace      W 

Beauty 

Art 

Desire 

Envy 

~m      Hope      W 

Ambition 

Folly 

M  Wonder  is  the  child  of  Rarity'-  "  Wonder  is  the 
seed  of  Knowledge. "-  '  'There  is  w* proceeding  in  inven- 
tion of  knowledge  but  by  similitude."- —Francis  Bacon.1 

So  your  sweet  hue,  which  methinks  still  doth  stand, 
Hath  motion,  and  mine  eye  may  be  deceiv'd. 

Sonnet  85-civ.,  p.  no. 

Kend  shalt  thou  be  of  no  man  of  my  truth, 
Know  first  the  motion,  when  the  life  ensueth. 

The  Dove  to  The  Phoenix,  Love's  Martyr,  p.  145. 


1  Cp.  notes  from  Bacon  and  Macaulay,  pp.  80,  81,  and  the  Edwards  note,  p. 
149,  and  notes,  p.  106. 


266  Shake-speare  England ' s    Ulysses, 

ICARUS,  EMBLEM  OF  FOLLY. 

| TO  THE  EARL  OF  ESSEX.] 

My  Lord, 

No  man  can  better  expound  my  doings  than  your  Lordship, 
which  maketh  me  say  the  less.  Only  I  humbly  pray  you  to  be- 
lieve that  I  aspire  to  the  conscience  and  commendation  of  first 
bonus  civis,  which  with  us  is  a  good  and  true  servant  to  the  Queen, 
and  next  of  bonus  vir,  that  is  an  honest  man.  I  desire  your  Lord- 
ship also  to  think  that,  though  I  confess  I  love  some  things  much 
better  than  I  love  your  Lordship,  as  the  Queen's  service,  her  quiet 
and  contentment,  her  honour,  her  favour?  the  good  of  my  coun- 
try and  the  like,  yet  I  love  few  persons  better  than  yourself,  both 
for  gratitude's  sake,  and  for  your  own  virtues,  which  cannot  hurt 
but  by  accident  or  abuse.  Of  which  my  good  affection  I  was  ever 
and  am  read}'-  to  yield  testimony  by  any  good  offices,  but  u'itJi  such 
reservations  as  yourself  cannot  but  allow?  For  as  I  was  ever 
sorry  that  your  Lordship  should  fly  with  waxen  wings,  doubting 
Icarus'  fortune,  so  for  the  growing  up  of  your  own  feathers — 
especially  ostrich's  or  any  other  save  of  a  bird  of  preya — no  man 
shall  be  more  glad.  And  this  is  the  axle-tree  whereupon  I  have 
turned  and  shall  turn.  Which  to  signify  to  you,  though  I  think 
you  are  of  yourself  persuaded  as  much,  'is  the  cause  of  my  writ  ing? 
And  so  I  commend  your  Lordship  to  God's  goodness.  From 
Gray's  Inn,  this  2oth  day  of  July,  1600. 

Your  Lordship's  most  humbly, 

Fr.  Bacon. 

1  It  was  Bacon  who  withdrew  himself  from  Essex,  not  Essex  who  shunned  Ba- 
con ....  As  earl}-  as  March  1597,  we  find  him  therefore  shunning  Essex's  com- 
pany in  Court,  desiring  to  speak  with  him,  but  "somewhere  else  than  at  court." 
— Bacon  and  Essc.\\  /:.  ./.  Abholl,  p.   103. 

2  I  acquaynted  the  Lord  Generall  [Essex]  with  your  letter  to  mee,  and  your 
kynd  acceptance  of  your  enterteynement;   hee  was  also  wonderfull  merry  att 
your  consait  of  *  Richard  the  Second. ^    I  hope  it  shall   never  alter,  and  where- 
of I  shall  be  most  gladd  of,  <ts  the  treic  -^'ay  to  ail  our  good.  yuiETT*  mid  ad- 
vancement,  and  most  of  all  for  Her  sake  whose  affaires  shall  thereby  fynd  better 
progression.      Sir,  I  will  ever  be  your's;   //  is  nil  /  can  save,  and  I  will  per- 
forme  it  n-flh  my  life,  and  icit/i  my  fortune.      Sir   ll'aller  'Raleigh  to  Robert 
Cecil,  July  6th,  •L$gi.—LifeofR<ilcffht  Edicards,  Vol.  II.  p.  169. 

1  Cp.  note  from  Judge  Webb,  p.  125.  '»  Cp.  Sir  Walter  Malvolio,  pp.  124,  153. 


The  Phoenix  Analyzed.  267 

Mr.  Bacon, 

I  can  neither  expound  nor  censure  your  late  actions,  being 
ignorant  of  them  all  save  one,  and  having  directed  my  sight  in- 
ward only  to  examine  myself.  You  do  pray  me  to  believe  that 
you  only  aspire  to  the  conscience  and  commendation  of  bonus  ciris 
and  bonus  vir;  and  I  do  faithfully  assure  you  that  while  that  is 
your  ambition  [though  your  course  be  active  and  mind  contem- 
plative],1 yet  we  shall  both  convenire  in  eodem  tertio,  and  convenire 
inter  nos  ipsos.  Your  profession  of  affection  and  your  offer  of  good 
offices  are  welcome  to  me.  For  answrer  to  them  I  wrill  say  but 
this:  that  you  have  believed  I  have  been  kind  to  you,  and  you 
may  believe  that  I  cannot  be  other,  either  upon  humor  or  mine 
own  election.  /  am  a  stranger  to  all  poetical  conceits,71  or  else  I 
should  say  somewhat  of  your  poetical  example.  But  this  I  must 
say,  that  I  never  flew  with  other  wings  than  desire  to  merit,  and 
confidence  in,  my  sovereign's  favour,  and  when  one  of  these  wings 
failed  me,  I  would  light  nowhere  but  at  my  sovereign's  feet,  though 
she  suffered  me  to  be  bruised  with  my  fall.  And  till  her  Majesty 
—that  knows  I  was  never  bird  of  prey — finds  it  to  agree  with  her 
will  and  her  service  that  my  wings  should  be  imped  again,  I  have 
commited  myself  to  the  mue.  No  power  but  my  God's  and  my 
sovereign's  can  alter  this  resolution  of 

Your  retired  friend, 

Essex. 


"This  implies  a  charge  of  inconsistency  against  Bacon," — Abbott,  p.  182. 
a  Cp.  note  from  Judge  Holmes,  p.  103. 

Untruthfulness  was  the  basis  of  Court  life  ....  there  was  the  art  of  writing 
a  letter  in  which  the  main  point  should  be  casually  added  or  introduced;  there 
was  the  art  of  being  found  reading  a  letter  of  ivhich  one  desired  to  make  knoivn 
the  contents,  but  not  in  a  direct  way  ....  What  the  art  of  oratory  was  in  dem- 
ocratic Athens,  the  art  of  lying  and  flattering  was  for  a  courtier  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  Elizabethan  monarchy,  no  courtier  was  safe  of  his  position  without  it. 

Cog,  lie,  flatter  and  face, 
Four  ways  in  Court  to  win  you  grace. 
If  you  be  thrall  to  none  of  these, 
Away,  good  Piers!  Home,  John  Cheese! 

Bacon  and  Essex,  Edwin  A.  Abbott,  pp.  i,  2,  3. 


268  Shake-speare  England 's    Ulysses, 


DAEDALUS  AND   ICARUS 
IN  THE  DRAMA. 

K.  Hen.  What  scene  of  death  hath  Roscius  now  to  act? 

Glo.   Suspicion  always  haunts  the  guilty  mind: 
The  thief  doth  fear  each  bush  an  officer. 

K.  Hen.  The  bird  that  hath  been  limed  in  a  bush, 

With  trembling  wings  misdoubteth  ever}'  bush: 

And  I,  the  hapless  male  to  one  sweet  bird, 

Have  now  the  fatal  object  in  my  eye, 

Where  my  poor  young  was  lim'd,  was  caught,  and  kill'd. 

Glo.   Why,  what  a  peevish  fool  was  that  of  Crete, 
That  taught  his  son  the  office  of  a  fowl? 
And  yet  for  all  his  wings  the  fool  was  drown'd. 

K.  Hen.  I,  Daedalus;  my  poor  boy,  Icarus; 

Thy  father,  Minos,  that  denied  our  course; 
The  sun,  that  seared  the  wings  of  my  sweet  boy, 
Thy  brother  Edward;  and  thyself,  the  sea, 
Whose  envious  gulf  did  swallow  up  his  life. 

Glo.  Think'st  thou  I  am  an  executioner? 

K.  Hen.  A  persecutor,  I  am  sure,  thou  art: 

If  murdering  innocents  be  executing, 
Why,  then  thou  art  an  executioner. 

*  *  *  *  * 

Glo.    I'll  hear  no  more. — Die,  prophet  in  thy  speech. 
For  this,  amongst  the  rest,  was  I  ordain'd. 

Third  Henry  VI.,  v.  6. 


The  Phoenix  Analyzed.  269 


DAEDALUS  EMBLEM  OF  ART.1 

Dcedalus, — A  mythical  personage,  under  whose 
name  the  Greek  writers  personified  the  earliest  devel- 
opement  of  the  arts  of  sculpture  and  architecture,  es- 
pecially among  the  Athenians  and  Cretans. 

Though  he  is  represented  as  living  in  the  early  he- 
roic period,  the  age  of  Minos  and  of  Theseus,  he  is  not 
mentioned  by  Homer,  except  in  one  doubtful  passage. 
The  ancient  writers  generally  represent  Daedalus  as  an 
Athenian,  of  the  royal  race  of  the  Erechtheidae.  Oth- 
ers call  him  a  Cretan,  on  account  of  the  long  time  he 
lived  in  Crete.  He  devoted  himself  to  sculpture,  and 
made  great  improvements  in  the  art. 

He  instructed  his  sisters  son,  Perdix,  who  soon 
came  to  surpass  him  in  skill  and  ingenuity,  and  Daedalus 
killed  him  through  envy,  being  condemned  to  death  for 
this  murder,  he  went  to  Crete,  where  the  fame  of  his 
skill  obtained  for  him  the  friendship  of  Minos.  He 
made  the  well-known  wooden  cow  for  Pasiphae;  and  on 
the  birth  of  the  Minotaur,  Daedalus  constructed  the 
labyrinth,  at  Cnossus,  in  which  the  monster  was  kept. 
For  his  part  in  this  affair,  Daedalus  was  imprisoned  by 
Minos;  but  Pasiphae  released  him,  and,  as  Minos  had 
seized  all  the  ships  on  the  coast  of  Crete,  Daedalus  pro- 
cured wings  for  himself  and  his  son  Icarus,  and  fastened 
them  on  with  wax.  Daedalus  himself  flew  safe  over  the 
Aegean,  but,  as  Icarus  flew  too  near  the  sun  the  wax 
by  which  his  wings  were  fastened  on  was  melted,  and 
he  dropped  down  and  was  drowned  in  that  part  of  the 

1  "Art  is  commonly  used  by  Shakespeare  for  letters,  learning  and  science." 
— Douuden. 


270  Shake-speare  England ' s  Ulysses, 

Aegean  which  was  called  after  him  the  Icarian  sea. 
Daedalus  fled  to  Sicily,  where  he  was  protected  by  Co- 
calus,  the  king  of  the  Siciani,  and  where  he  erected 
many  great  works  of  art.  Of  the  stories  which  connect 
him  with  Egypt,  the  most  important  are  the  statements 
of  Diodorus,  that  he  executed  works  there,  that  he  cop- 
ied his  labyrinth  from  that  in  Egypt  that  the  style  of 
his  statues  was  the  same  as  that  of  the  ancient  Egyptian 
statues,  and  that  Daedalus  himself  was  worshipped  in 
Egypt  as  a  god. ' 

The  later  Greek  writers  explained  these  myths  after 
their  usual  absurd  plan.  Thus  according  to  Lucian, 
Daedalus  was  a  great  master  of  astrology,  and  taught 
the  science  to  his  son,  who,  soaring  above  plain  truths 
into  transcendental  mysteries,  lost  his  reason,  and  was 
drowned  in  the  abyss  of  difficulties. 

The  Fable  of  Pasiphae  is  also  explained  by  making 
her  a  pupil  of  Daedalus  in  astrology,  and  the  bull  is  the 
constellation  Taurus. 

Palaephatus  explains  the  wings  of  Daedalus  as 
meaning  the  invention  of  sails— 

If  these  fables  are  to  be  explained  at  all,  the  only 
rational  interpretation  is,  that  they  were  poetical  inven- 
tions, setting  forth  the  great  improvement  which  took 
place,  in  the  mechanical  as  well  as  in  the  fine  arts,  at 
the  age  of  which  Dcedalus  is  a  personification? 

The  exact  character  of  the  Daedalian  epoch  of  art 
will  be  best  understood  from  the  statements  of  the  an- 
cient writers  respecting  his  productions.  The  following 
works  of  sculpture  and  architecture  are  ascribed  to  him. 

1  Cp.  note  2,  p.  160. 


The  Phcenix  Analyzed.  271 

In  Crete  the  cow  of  Pasiphae  and  the  labyrinth.  In 
Sicily,  near  Megaris,  the  Colymbethra,  or  reservoir,  from 
which  a  great  river  named  Alabon,  flowed  into  the  sea; 
near  Agrigentum,  an  impregnable  city  upon  a  rock,  in 
which  was  the  royal  palace  and  treasury  of  Cocalus;  in 
the  territory  of  Selinus  a  cave,  in  which  the  vapour 
arising  from  a  subterranean  fire  was  received  in  such  a 
manner,  as  to  form  a  pleasant  vapour  bath.  He  also 
enlarged  the  summit  of  mount  Eryx  by  a  wall,  so  as  to 
make  a  firm  foundation  for  the  temple  of  Aphrodite. 
For  this  same  temple  he  made  a  honeycomb  of  gold 
which  could  scarcely  be  distinguished  from  a  real  honey- 
comb. Diodorus  adds,  that  he  was  said  to  have  exe- 
cuted many  more  works  of  art  in  Sicily,  which  had  per- 
ished through  the  lapse  of  time.  Several  other  works 
of  art  were  attributed  to  Daedalus,  in  Greece,  Italy, 
Libya,  and  the  islands  of  the  Mediterranean.  Temples 
of  Apollo  at  Capua  and  Cumae  were  ascribed  to  him. 
In  the  islands  called  Electridae,  in  the  Adriatic,  there 
were  said  to  be  two  statues,  the  one  of  tin  and  the  other 
of  brass,  which  Daedalus  made  to  commemorate  his  ar- 
rival at  those  islands  during  his  flight  from  Minos.  They 
were  the  images  of  himself  and  his  son  Icarus.  At  Mon- 
ogissa  in  Caria  there  was  a  statue  of  Artemis  ascribed 
to  him.  In  Egypt  he  was  said  to  be  the  architect  of  a 
most  beautiful  propylaeum  to  the  temple  of  Hephaestus 
at  Memphis,  for  which  he  was  rewarded  by  the  erection 
of  a  statue  of  himself  and  made  by  himself,  in  that  tem- 
ple. Scylax  mentions  an  altar  on  the  coast  of  Libya, 
which  was  sculptured  with  lions  and  dolphins  by  Dae- 
dalus. The  temple  of  Artemis  Britomortis,  in  Crete, 
was  ascribed  to  Daedalus.  At  Delos,  a  small  terminal 


272  Shake-speare  England '  s  Ulysses, 

wooden  statue  of  Aphrodite,  which  was  said  to  have 
been  made  by  Daedalus  for  Ariadne,  who  carried  it  to 
Delos  when  she  fled  with  Theseus.  Pausanias  adds, 
that  these  were  all  the  works  of  Daedalus  which  remained 
at  his  time,  for  that  the  statue  set  up  by  the  Arrives  in 
the  Heraeum  and  that  which  Antiphemus  had  removed 
from  the  Sicanian  city,  Omphace,  to  Gelos,  had  perish- 
ed through  time. 

The  inventions  and  improvements  attributed  to 
Daedalus  are  both  artistic  and  mechanical.  He  was 
the  reputed  inventor  of  carpentry  and  its  chief  tools,  the 
saw,  the  axe,  the  plumb-line,  the  auger,  the  gimlet  and 
glue.  He  was  said  to  have  been  taught  the  art  of  car- 
pentry by  Minerva.  In  naval  architecture,  the  invention 
of  the  mast  and  yards  is  ascribed  to  Daedalus. 

In  statuary,  the  improvements  attributed  to  Dae- 
dalus were  the  opening  of  the  eyes  and  of  the  feet,  which 
had  been  formerly  closed,  and  the  extending  of  the 
hands,  which  had  been  formerly  placed  down  close  to 
the  sides.  Aristotle  mentions  a  wooden  figure  of  Aph- 
rodite, which  was  moved  by  quicksilver  within  it,  as  a 
work  ascribed  to  Daedalus. 

From  these  statements  of  the  ancient  writers  it  is 
not  difficult  to  form  some  idea  of  the  period  in  the  his- 
tory of  art  which  the  name  of  Daedalus  represents.  The 
name  itself,  like  the  others  which  are  associated  with  it, 
such  as  Eupalamus,  implies  skill.  The  Daedalian  stvle 
of  art  continued  to  prevail  and  improve  down  to  the  be- 
ginning of  the  fifth  century  B.  C.,  and  the  artists  of  that 
long  period  were  called  Daedalids,  and  claimed  an  act- 
ual descent  from  Daedalus,  according  to  the  well-known 
custom  by  which  art  was  hereditary  in  certain  families. 


The  Pluvnix  Analyzed.  273 

This  genealogy  was  carried  down  as  late  as  the  time 
of  Socrates,  who  claimed  to  be  a  Dsedalid. * — Greek  and 
Roman  Biog.  and  M.,  Smith. 

1  On  the  tomb  of  Shake-speare  [who  died  in  1601,  and  was  buried  by  proxy 
— preposterous  as  it  may  seem — as  Shakspere  in  1616  ""because  peradi'oitiire, 
some*  iiai'e  either  malevolently,  i^illi  exceeding  bitterness  abused  his  honor- 
able (ts/ics  contumeliously"]*  was  inscribed  "Socrates  ingenio, "  a  Socrates  in 
his  turn  of  mind. 

"I  declare"  says  Socrates  in  'J'lie  '/'heaves,  "that  I  know  nothing  whatever, 
except  one  small  matter  what  belongs  to  love.  In  that  I  surpass  every  one  else, 
past  as  well  as  present."  In  the  Platonic  philosophy  this  "small  matter"  en- 
larged itself  into  the  great  sustaining  force  of  the  universe,  and  he  who  knew 
love  knew  the  kernel  of  all  that  could  be  known. — Philosophy  of  Shakespeare'1 s 
Sonnets,  Ricliard  Simpson. 

Hence  it  follows  that  Lot'e*  s  Martyr  of  the  Elizabethan  age,  was  not  only 
the  dismantled  play  of  Lore's  Labor's  ITon  but  [subsequent  to  1601]  Shake- 
speare also,  and  the  constellation  of  the  Phoenix  was  the  emblem  not  only  for 
the  play  but  for  the  author  of  the  play.  Cp.  Drayton's  Sonnet,  p.  246. 

1  "The  world  followeth  the  sway  of  her  inclination." — Dyer  [Cp.  p.  206].  2  Cp.  p.  286. 

It  has  generally  been  supposed  that  the  complexion  of  several  of  Shakespeare's  Historical 
plays  was  political  — in  a  measure,  yes— but  only  to  show  that  through  his  ancestry  he  was  el- 
igible to  the  succession.  The  chances  are  that  Essex  was  promised  the  succession  in  1588. 1 
but  as  far  as  the  evidence  goes  he  was  ever  loyal  to  the  succession  of  James.  It  is  my  opin- 
ion that  the  playing  of  Richard  tin-  Second  "forty  times  in  open  streets  and  houses"  in  1601, 
was  a  subterfuge  of  Elizabeth,  Raleigh  and  Sir  Robert  Cecil,  (paid  for  with  their  money  I2  and 
that  in  1601  Essex  had  no  more  idea  of  supplanting  Elizabeth  than  had  the  Countess  Lettice, 
who  was  charged  with  the  same  offence.3  The  "guilt"  lay  in  lampooning  the  Queen  as  Ger- 
trude in  Hamlet,  the  defection  being  Social,  not  political-4  Again,  the  chances  are  that  Rob- 
ert Dudley  was  an  honorable  man.  not  an  atheist,  as  charged,  but  along  with  Sidney,  Spenser 
and  Bruno  of  a  Unitarian  turn  of  mind,  and  under  no  conditions  whatsoever  would  he  have 
married  Mary  Stuart  or  Elizabeth  the  virgin-harlot,  there  was  metal  more  attractive  in  the 
woman  he  married,  the  better  sort"  Lettice  Knollys  the  mother  of  Shake-speare  "she  that 
did  supply  the  wars  with  thunder  and  the  court  with  stars."  Socially  to  the  rigidly  honest, 
the  rank  and  file  of  humanity  has  ever  been  out  of  joint,  since,  however  gained,  personal  ad- 
vancement is  the  ruling  passion.  For  the  play  of  Hamlet  the  world  is  indebted  to  what  galled 
our  poet  "in  the  highest  degree"  not  that  his  house  was  slandered,  for  that  was  to  be  expect- 
ed, but  the  spectacle  of  the  poltroonish  time-serving  world  applauding  slander5  inspired  by 
exalted  rottenness  and  prorogated  by  social  barnacles  whose  place  depended  upon  abject 
fawning  and  disregard  of  truth,  knaves  who 

"Used  the  advantage  time  and  fortune  gave,  | 
Of  worth  and  powec  to  get  the  liberty."         j  6 

It  is  ominous  that  no  member  of  the  Court  of  Elizabeth  ever  mentioned  the  name  of  Shake- 
speare, and  time  has  proven  that  the  enemies  of  our  poet  were  the  most  successful  liars, 
thieves,  and  cut-throats  the  world  has  ever  known.  Sir  William  Cecil,  at  his  death  in  1598, 
was  accounted  one  of  the  richest  men  in  England,  possessed  of  three  hundred  distinct  land- 
ed estates  presumably  escheated  by  the  crown.7  Figuring  Elizabethan  money  at  eight  times  its 
present  value.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  niched  out  of  the  Es^ex  insurrection  $8oo,ooo.oo,x  and  mod- 
est Francis  Bacon,  since  it  was  "a  vice  to  know  him"9  was  sadly  disappointed  with  his  paltry 
fee  of  $48,000.00.  "Thei)ueen  hath  done  somewhat  for  me,  though  not  in  the  Proportion  I  hop- 
<v/"10 

1  Cp.  the  last  stanza  of  The  Buzzing-  Bee's  Complaint,  p.  338. 

2  Cp.  Raleigh's  letter  to  Cecil,  p.  266.  :i  Cp.  p.  103. 
*  Cp.  all  of  p.  221,  and  notes,  pp.  94  and  136. 

The  Percy  appears  to  have  had  his  match  however  in  his  own  wife,  Dorothy  Devereux. 
the  sister  of  Lady  Rich  and  Robert  Earl  of  Essex.  In  one  of  their  domestic  quarrels  the  Earl 
of  Northunderland  had  said  he  would  rather  the  King  of  Scots  were  buried  than  crowned, 
and  that  both  he  and  all  his  friends  would  end  their  lives  before  her  brother's  great  God 
should  reign  in  his  element.  To  which  the  lady  spiritedly  replied,  that  rather  than  any  other 
save  James  should  reign  King  of  England  she  would  eat  their  hearts  in  salt,  though  she  were, 
brought  to  the  gallows  immediately.  —  Shakespeare's  Sonnet's,  Massey,  p.  64. 

5  Cp.  note  r,  p.  186- 

6  Cp-  the  Essex  Sonnet  frontispage  7. 

~'  Cp.  Ritrlfigh  and  His  Times,  Macaulay.  p.  733. 
x  Cp.  Lives  of  the  Earls  of  Essex,  Vol.  2,  p.  198. 

9  That  Francis  Bacon  was  Osric  in  Hamlet,  cp.  pp.  150,  151. 

10  Cp.  Bacon  and  Essex,  Abbott,  p.  251, 

18 


274  Shake- spe are  England's  Ulysses, 


POEM  ATTRIBUTED  TO  SHAKESPEARE 

— IN— 
BENSON'S  1640  EDITION  OE  THE  SONNETS. 

"This  Mynotaure,  when  hee  came  to  growth,  was 
incloased  in  the  Laborinth,  which  was  made  by  the 
curious  Arts-master  Dedalus,  whose  ,tale  likewise  we 
thus  pursue." 

When  Dedalus  the  laborinth  had  built, 

In  which  t'  include  the  Queene  Pasiphaes  guilt, 

And  that  the  time  was  now  expired  full, 

To  inclose  the  Mynotaure,  halfe  man,  halfe  bull: 

Kneeling  he  says,  Just  Mynos  end  my  moans 

And  let  my  native  soil  entomb  my  bones: 

Or  if  dread  sovereign  I  deserve  no  grace, 

Look  with  a  piteous  eye  on  my  sons  face. 

And  grant  me  leave  from  whence  we  are  exiled, 

Or  pity  me,  if  you  deny  my  child: 

This  and  much  more  he  speaks,  but  all  in  vain. 

The  king,  both  son  and  father  will  detain, 

Which  he  perceiving  says;  Now,  now,  'tis  fit, 

To  give  the  world  cause  to  admire  my  wit, 

Both  land  and  sea  are  watched  by  day  and  night. 

Nor  land  nor  sea  lies  open  to  our  flight: 

Only  the  air  remains,  then  let  us  try 

To  cut  a  passage  through  the  air  and  fly, 

Jove  be  auspicious  to  my  enterprise, 

I  covet  not  to  mount  above  the  skies: 

But  make  this  refuge,  since  I  can  prepare 

No  means  to  fly  my  Lord,  but  through  the  air, 


The  Phoenix  Analysed.  275 

Make  me  immortal,  bring  me  to  the  brim 

Of  the  black  Stigian  water,  Styx  ile  swim: 

Oh  human  wit,  thou  can'st  invent  much  ill? 

Thou  searchest  strange  arts,  who  would  think  by  skill 

A  heavy  man  like  a  light  bird  should  stray, 

And  through  the  empty  heavens  find  a  way. 

He  placeth  in  just  order  all  his  quills, 

Whose  bottoms  with  resolved  wax  he  fills, 

Then  binds  them  with  a  line,  and  being  fast  tied, 

He  placeth  them  like  oars  on  either  side, 

The  tender  lad  the  downy  feathers  blew, 

And  what  his  father  meant,  he  nothing  knew, 

The  wax  he  fastened,  with  the  strings  he  played 

Not  thinking  for  his  shoulders  they  were  made, 

To  whom  his  father  spake  [and  then  looked  pale] 

With  these  swift  ships,  we  to  our  land  must  sail. 

All  passages  doth  cruel  Mynos  stop, 

Only  the  empty  air  he  still  leaves  ope.  \ 

That  way  must  we;  the  land  and  the  rough  deep  >-  * 

Doth  Mynos  bar,  the  air  he  cannot  keep:  ) 

But  in  thy  way  beware  thou  set  no  eye 

On  the  sign  Virgo,  nor  Boetes  high: 

Look  not  the  black  Orion  in  the  face 

That  shakes  his  sword,  but  just  with  me  keep  pace. 


1  It  will  be  remembered  that  the  characters  of  the  Sonnet  Masque  are  muses, 
the  winged  gods  of  Homer  in  Extensa. 
The  Phcc.)iix  to  Diedalus. 

"One  on  another's  neck,  do  witness  bear 
Thy  black  [art]  is  fairest  in  my  judgments  place." 
Sonnet,  cxxxi.,  p.  164. 

And  Spenser's  line  "Of  other  worlds  he  happily,  should  hear."      [Cp.  p.   247.] 
And  Hamlet's  "Forest  of  Feathers."      [Cp.  Massey's  lines,  p.  73.] 


276  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

Thy  wings  are  now  in  fastening,  fastening,  follow  me, 

I  will  before  thee  fly  as  thou  shalt  see, 

Thy  father  mount,  or  stoop,  so  I  aread  thee, 

Make  me  thy  guard,  and  safely  I  will  lead  thee: 

If  we  should  soar  too  near  great  Phoebus  seat, 

The  melting  wax  will  not  endure  the  heat, 

Or  if  we  fly  too  near  the  humid  seas, 

Our  moistened  wings  we  cannot  shake  with  ease. 

Fly  between  both,  and  with  the  gusts  that  rise, 

Let  thy  light  body  sail  amidst  the  skies, 

And  ever  as  his  little  son  he  charms, 

He  fits  the  feathers  to  his  tender  arms: 

And  shows  him  how  to  move  his  body  light, 

As  birds  first  teach  their  little  young  ones  flight: 

By  this  he  calls  to  counsel  all  his  wits, 

And  his  own  wings  unto  his  shoulders  fits, 

Being  about  to  rise,  he  fearfuls  quakes: 

And  in  this  new  way  his  faint  body  shakes: 

First  ere  he  took  his  flight,  he  kissed  his  son, 

Whilst  by  his  cheeks  the  brinish  waters  run, 

There  was  a  hillock  not  so  towering  tall 

As  lofty  mountains  be,  nor  yet  so  small 

To  be  with  valleys  even,  and  yet  a  hill, 

From  this  thus  both  attempt  their  uncouth  skill: 

The  father  moves  his  wings,  and  with  respect 

His  eyes  upon  his  wandering  son  reflect: 

They  bear  a  spacious  course,  and  the  apt  bov 

Fearless  of  harm  in  his  new  tract  doth  joy, 

And  flies  more  boldly:  Now  upon  them  looks 

The  fishermen  that  angle  in  the  brooks, 

And  with  their  eyes  cast  upward  frighted  stand, 

By  this  is  Samos  Isle  on  their  left  hand, 


The  Phoenix  Analyzed.  277 

Upon  the  right  Lehinthos  they  forsake, 

Aslipalen  and  the  Fishy  Lake. 

Shady  Pachime  full  of  woods  and  groves. 

When  the  rash  youth,  too  bold  in  venturing,  roves; 

Loses  his  guide,  and  takes  his  flight  so  high 

That  the  soft  wax  against  the  sun  doth  fry, 

And  the  cords  slip,  that  kept  the  feathers  fast, 

So  that  his  arms  have  power  upon  no  blast: 

He  fearfully  from  the  high  clouds  looks  down, 

Upon  the  lower  heavens,  whose  curled  waves  frown 

At  his  ambitious  height,  and  from  the  skies 

He  sees  black  night  and  death  before  his  eyes, 

Still  melts  the  wax,  his  naked  arms  he  shakes, 

And  thinking  to  catch  hold,  no  hold  he  takes: 

Bnt  now  the  naked  lad,  down  headlong  falls, 

And  by  the  way,  he  father,  father  calls: 

Help  father  help,  I  die,  and  as  he  speaks, 

A  violent  surge  his  course  of  language  breaks. 

The  unhappy  father,  but  no  father  now, 

Cries  out  aloud,  Son  Icarus  where  art  thou  ? 

Where  art  thou  Icarus,  where  dost  thou  fly? 

Icarus  where  art?     When  low  he  may  espy 

The  feathers  swim,  aloud  he  doth  exclaim, 

The  earth  his  bones,  the  sea  still  bears  his  name. 

Shakespeare  s  Poems,  John  Benson,   1640. 


COLLATERAL  SUGGESTIONS, 

'Friends,  Noman  kills  me;  Noman  in  the  hour 
Of  sleep,  oppresses  me  with  fraudful  power,' 
If  no  man  hurt  thee,  but  the  hand  divine 
Inflict  disease,  it  fits  thee  to  resign: 
To  Jove  or  to  thy  father  Neptune  pra}\ 
The  brethren  cry'd,  and  instant  strode  away. 
Joy  touched  my  secret  soul  and  conscious  heart, 
Pleased  with  th'  effect  of  conduct  and  of  art. 

Adventures  of  Ulysses  [Pope's  tr.]  . 


'  'Ha!  Cyclops!  if  any  man  of  mortal  birth 
Note  thine  unseemly  blindness,  and  inquire 
The  occasion,  tell  him  that  Laertes'  son, 
Ulysses,  the  destroyer  of  walled  towns, 
Whose  home  is  Ithaca,  put  out  thine  eye.'  " 
Adventures  of  Ulysses  [Bryant's  tr.]. 

Look  [Homer] thou  shalt  find 

Those  children  nurs'd,  deliver'd  from  thy  brain, 
To  take  a  new  acquaintance  of  thy  mind. 
.These  offices,  so  oft  as  thou  wilt  look, 
Shall  profit  thee  and  much  enrich  thy  book. 

William  Shake-speare.      [Cp.  Son.  LXXVII.,  p.  20.] 


NOTED  TRANSLATIONS 

—OF— 

PENELOPE'S    CHALLENGE.1 

THE  ARGUMENT. 

To  night,  in  honor  of  the  marry 'd  life, 
Our  author  treats  you  with  a  virtuous  wife; 
A  lady,  who,  for  twenty  years,  withstood 
The  pressing  instances  of  flesh  and  blood, 
Her  husband,  still  a  man  of  sense  reputed, 
[Unless  this  tale  his  wisdom  have  confuted,] 
Left  her  at  ripe  eighteen,  to  seek  renown, 
And  battle  for  a  harlot  at  Troy  Town; 
To  fill  his  place,  fresh  lovers  came  in  shoals, 
Much  such  as  now  a-days  are  cupids  tools, 
Some  men  of  wit, ,  but  the  most  part  were  fools, 
They  sent  her  Billets  doux,  and  presents  many, 
Of  ancient  Tea  and  Thericlean  China; 
Rail'd  at  the  Gods,  toasted  her  o'er  and  o'er, 
Dress'dather,  danc'd,  and  fought,  andsigh'd,  and  swore; 
In  short,  did  all  that  men  could  do  to  have  her, 
And  damn'd  themselves  to  get  into  her  favour; 
But  all  in  vain,  the  virtuous  dame  stood  buff,       ) 
And  let  'em  know  that  she  was  coxcomb  proof,  j  2 
Prologue,    Tragedy  of  Ulysses,  Nicholas  Rowe,   1706. 


1  For  Shake-speare's  probable  use  of  Penelope's  Challenge  see  p.  19. 

2  Cp.  extracts  from  IVillobie' s  Arisa,  p.  339,  and  notes  from  Messrs.  Gollancz 
and  Lee,  pp.  48,  49. 

279 


280  Shake-spectre  England's  Ulysses, 

Hear  me,  ye  wooers,  that  a  pleasure  take 

To  do  me  sorrow,  and  my  house  invade 

To  eat  and  drink,  as  if  'twere  only  made 

To  serve  your  rapines;  my  lord  long  away, 

And  you  allowed  no  colour  for  your  stay 

But  his  still  absence;  Striving  who  shall  frame 

Me  for  his  wife;  and,  since  'tis  made  a  game, 

I  here  propose  divine  Ulysses'  bow 

For  that  great  maister-piece  to  which  ye  vow: 

He  that  can  draw  it  with  least  show  to  strive, 

And  through  these  twelve  ax-heads  an  arrow  drive, 

Him  will  I  follow,  and  this  house  forego 

That  nourisht  me  a  maid,  now  furnisht  so 

With  all  things  fit,  and  which  I  so  esteem 

That  I  shall  still  live  in  it  in  my  dream. 

George  Chapman,   1614-16. 

Say  you,  whom  these  forbidden  walls  enclose, 
For  whom  my  victims  bleed,  my  vintage  flows; 
If  these  neglected,  faded  charms  can  move  ? 
Or  is  it  but  a  vain  pretence,  you  love? 
If  I  the  prize,  if  me  you  seek  to  wife, 
Hear  the  conditions,  and  commence  the  strife: 
Who  first  Ulysses'  wondrous  bow  shall  bend, 
And  through  twelve  ringlets  the  fleet  arrow  send, 
Him  will  I  follow,  and  forsake  my  home, 
For  him  forsake  this  lov'd,  this  wealthy  dome, 
Long,  long  the  scene  of  all  my  past  delight, 
And  still  to  last,  the  vision  of  my  night. 

Alexander  Pope,   1725. 


Penelopes  Challenge.  281 

Ye  noble  suitors  hear,  who  rudely  haunt 
This  palace  of  a  Chief  long  absent  hence, 
Whose  substance  ye  have  long  time  consumed, 
Nor  palliative  have  yet  contrived,  or  could, 
Save  your  ambition  to  make  me  a  bride- 
Attend  this  game  to  which  I  call  you  forth. 
Now  suitors!  prove  yourselves  with  this  huge  bow 
Of  wide-renown'd  Ulysses;  he  who  draws 
.Easiest  the  bow,  and  who  his  arrow  sends 
Through  twice  six  rings,  he  takes  me  to  his  home, 
And  I  must  leave  this  mansion  of  my  youth 
Plenteous,  magnificent,  which,  doubtless,  oft 
I  shall  remember  even  in  my  dreams. 

William  Cowper,  1791. 


Hear  me,  ye  noble  suitors,  who  press  heavily  upon 
this  house  to  eat  and  drink  without  ceasing,  my  husband 
being  absent  for  a  long  time;  nor  have  ye  been  able  to 
make  any  other  pretext  for  your  sedition,  but  as  desir- 
ing to  marry  me,  and  make  me  your  wife.  But  come, 
suitors,  since  this  contest  has  appeared;  for  I  will  put 
down  the  great  bow  of  divine  Ulysses,  and  whoever  shall 
most  easily  stretch  the  bow  in  his  hands,  and  shall  dart 
an  arrow  through  the  whole  twelve  hatchets,  him  will  I 
follow  leaving  this  house  which  I  entered  when  a  virgin, 
verry  beautiful,  full  of  the  means  of  livelihood:  which  I 
think  I  shall  sometime  remember,  even  in  a  dream. 

T.  A.* Buckley,   1855. 


282  Shake-spectre  England 's  Ulysses, 

Thus  coming  in,  the  curved  bow  she  held, 

And  the  large  quiver  with  sad  arrows  stored, 

Also  the  maidens  bore  a  coffer,  filled 

With  brass  and  steel,  the  prizes  of  their  lord. 

So  came  the  queen  near  to  the  banquet-board; 

And  by  the  pillar  of  the  dome  she  stood, 

Screened  with  her  lucid  veil,  and  spoke  this  word: 

"Hear  now,  ye  suitors,  who  for  drink  and  food 

Lie  heavy  on  this  house,  and  vex  my  widowhood. 

1  'This  was  your  pretext,  and  none  else  but  this, 

To  wed  me,  come,  behold  your  test  of  skill! 

Nor  of  due  guerdon  shall  the  victor  miss. 

Here  is  my  lord's  bow;  feel  it  as  ye  will; 

And  from  whose  hand  the  shaft  with  easiest  thrill 

Flies  through  each  ring  which  there  in  order  gleams, 

Him  will  I  follow  both  for  good  and  ill, 

Leaving  this  house  which  so  delightful  seems, 

Home  to  be  vet  remembered  even  in  mv  dreams. 

P.  S.   Worsley,  1861. 

Hear,  noble  suitors!  ye  who  throng  these  halls, 

And  eat  and  drink  from  day  to  day,  while  long 

My  husband  has  been  gone;  Your  sole  excuse 

For  all  this  lawlessness  the  claim  ye  make 

That  I  become  a  bride.      Come  then,  for  now 

A  contest  is  proposed.      I  bring  to'you 

The  mighty  bow  that  great  Ulysses  bore. 

Who'er  among  you  he  may  be  whose  hand 

Shall  bend'this  bow,  and  send  through  these  twelve  rings 

An  arrow,  him  I  follow  hence,  and  leave 

This  beautiful  abode  of  my  young  vears, 

With  all  its  plenty, — though  its  memory, 

I  think,  will  haunt  me  even  in  my  dreams. 

IV.   C.  Bryant,  1872. 

1  Shall  String  this  bow.  —  "The  first  attempt  of  Telemachus  and  the  suitors 
was  not  an  attempt  to  shoot,  but  to  lodge  the  bow-string  on  the  opposite  horn, 
the  bow  having  been  released  at  one  end,  and  slackened  while  it  was  laid  by." 
—  William  Cozvper. 


Penelope  s  Challenge.  283 

Hear  me!  ye  princely  suitors:  who  to  feast 

Continual  of  viands  and  of  wines 

Within  these  walls  resort,  and  on  our  home 

Oppressive  burdens  lay  while  so  long  time 

My  consort  absent  lingers,  and  no  ground 

Can  for  you  trespass  herein  urge  but  hopes 

Of  nuptial  contract  making;  and  myself 

The  bride  to  be:  Attend  to  me,  who  thus 

The  'prize  of  competition  you  have  made— 

This  mighty  bow,  Ulysses'  own,  I  here 

Before  you  all  produce;  and  whosoe  er 

This  self-same  bow,  as  here  he  handles  it, 

With  greatest  ease  shall  stretch,  and  through  the  rings 

Of  all  twelve  axes  shall  an  arrow  shoot, 

The  man  will  be  whom  I  shall  follow  hence, 

This  palace  quiting  which,  while  yet  a  girl, 

I  enter 'd,  rich  in  beauty,  rich  in  wealth, 

Lifes  maintenance  providing;  all  of  which 

Long  hence  shall  I  in  memory  retain, 

Aye,  ev'n  in  dreams  recalling. 

George  Musgrave,   1865. 

Hear  me,  ye  lordly  wooers,  that  have  vexed  this 
house,  that  ye  might  eat  and  drink  here  evermore,  for- 
asmuch as  the  master  is  long  gone,  nor  could  you  find 
any  other  mask  for  your  speech,  but  all  your  desire  was 
to  wed  me  and  take  me  to  wife.  Nay  come  now,  ye 
wooers,  seeing  that  this  is  the  prize  that  is  put  before 
you.  I  will  set  forth  for  you  the  great  bow  of  divine 
Odysseus,  and  whoso  shall  most  easily  string  the  bow 
in  his  hands,  and  shoot  through  all  twelve  axes,  with  him 
will  I  go  and  forsake  this  house,  this  honourable  house, 
so  very  fair  and  filled  with  all  lively-hood,  which  me- 
thinks  I  shall  yet  remember,  aye,  in  a  dream.  —  S.  H. 
Bit tch er  and  A.  La ng,  1879. 


284  Shake-spear e  England *s  Ulysses, 

Harken  to  me,  ye  arrogant  suitors  that  evermore 

Afflict  mine  house  with  devouring  and  drinking  our  garnered  store 

While  my  lord  hath  been   long  time  gone;  and  through   all    this 

weary  tide 

Could  your  false  hearts  find  for  your  lips  no  word-pretence  beside, 
Save  this,  that  each  of  you  sorely  desired  to  win  me  his  bride. 
Come  suitors,  for  this  is  the  contest  appointed  your  wooing  to  end: 
I  will  set  you  the  mighty  bow  of  Odysseus  the  hero  divine: 
Whosoe'er  of  you  all  with  his  hands  shall  the  bow  most  easily 

bend, 
And  shoot  through  the  rings  of  the  axes  twelve  ranged  all  in  a 

line, 

Him  will  I  follow,  forsaking  this  beautiful  home  of  mine, 
Dear  home,  that  knew  me  a  bride,  with  its  wealth  of  abundant 

store; 

I  shall  never  forget  it:  even  in  dreams  I  shall  see  it  for  evermore. 

Arthur  L.    Way,  1880. 


Harken,  O  high-heart  wooers,  this  house  that  waste  and  wear, 

Eating  and  drinking  our  substance  without  a  stop  or  stay, 

The  wealth  of  our  house-master  so  long  a  while  away, 

And  can  make  no  other  pretext  of  the  matter  ye  plan  to  do 

But  that  ye  long  to  wed  me  and  take  me  the  wife  of  you. 

— Come,  wooers,  since  the  contest  and  the  prize  befalleth  so, 

Here  will  I  lay  before  you  Odysseus'  mighty  bow, 

And  whichso  of  you  the  easiest  with  his  palms  the  bow  shall  bend, 

And  throughout  all  twelve  of  the  axes  the  shaft  therefrom  shall 

send, 

Him  then  shall  I  follow,  departing  from  this  house  of  the  wed- 
ded wife, 

This  fair  house  so  abundant  in  all  that  upholdeth  life; 
Which  yet  shall  I  remember,  tho  but  in  dreams  it  be. 

Wm.  Morris,  1887. 


Penelope  s  Challenge.  285 

My  noble  suitors,  hear  me.      The  prince,  my  son, 

Hath  told  you  of  the  purpose  of  m\r  coming: 

Howe'er  that  be,  attend.      Ye  heive  now  long  time 

Besieged  this  widowed  house,  and  day  by  day 

Eating  and  drinking  without  end,  abused 

The  absence  of  its  lord;  and  ever  in  all 

Ye  have  still  proclaimed  one  object,  me  to  woo 

And  wed.      Till  now  I  have  barred  consent:  to-day 

I  yield  me  to  your  urgence  to  declare 

Whom  I  will  choose:  but  since  not  willingly 

I  wed,  I  set  my  fortune  with  the  gods 

To  guide  and  govern.      Here  is  Ulysses'  bow: 

With  this  contest  I  pray  you  among  yourselves, 

And  I  will  be  the  prize.      Yes,  his  am  I 

Who  strings  most  easily  this  bow,  and  shoots 

The  truest  arrow  through  the  axes'  heads. 

He  is  my  husband  and  with  him  to-day 

Will  I  leave  this  fair  house  so  dearly  loved. 

Eumaeus,  take  the  bow.      Offer  it  now 

In  turn  to  all:  and  let  all  try  in  turn; 

I  will  sit  here  and  watch. 

Robert  Bridges,   1884. 

Hearken  you  haughty  suitors  who  beset  this  house, 
eating  and  drinking  ever,  now  my  husband  is  long  gone; 
no  word  of  excuse  can  you  suggest  except  your  wish  to 
marry  me  and  win  me  for  your  wife.  Well  then,  my 
suitors, — since  before  you  stands  your  prize, — I  offer 
you  the  mighty  bow  of  prince  Odysseus;  and  whoever 
with  his  /lands  shall  lightliest  bend  the  bow  and  shoot 
through  all  twelve  axes,  him  I  will  follow  and  forsake  this 
home,  this  bridal'  home,  so  very  beautiful  and  full  of 
wealth,  a  place  I  think  I  ever  shall  remember,  even  in 
my  dreams,  —  G,  H.  Palmer,  1891, 


A  FULL  LENGTH  PORTRAIT  OF  ESSEX. 

"I  cannot  sufficiently  set  down  what  [in  my  judge- 
ment, and  by  the  relation  of  very  just  and  wise  men  of 
his  secrets] l  I  have  considered  and  conceived  of  that 
noble  warrior.  Howbeit,  thus  much  as  the  least  of  my 
just  obsequies  to  so  renouned  a  lord;  He  never  was 
heard  [that  ever  I  could  heare]  to  have  gloried  or  boast- 
ed of  his  victories  or  fortunate  services:  but  in  all  his 
actions,  civile  or  military,  did  refer  all  with  joyfull  hum- 
blenesse  and  thanksgiving  to  God;  and  to  the  speciall 
wisedome  and  direction  of  his  Prince,  as  a  servant  and 
minister  of  theirs.  And  thus,  by  specious  declaration  of 
his  vertue  in  obedience,  and  of  his  modestie  in  speech, 
he  still  lived  free  from  malice :  and  yet  as  a  royall  deere, 
always  pasturing  within  the  golden  pale  of  glorie.  How- 
beit, [to  his  owne  sodaine  dissolution,  and  to  the  dolor- 
ous downefall  and  heaviness  of  his  many  friends  which 
fell  with  him,  and  which  lamented  for  him  long  after 
him]  hee  found  it  and  left  it,  which  is  by  Tacitus  written 
as  a  position  infallible,  to  bee  pondered  amongst  all 
ambitious  and  aspiring  subjects,  or  other  great  ones, 
which  cannot  set  limits  to  their  owne  appetites,  Onatu 
forniidolosum  sit  privati  liotninis  gloriam  supra  prin- 
cipis  attoli. 

But  that  I  may  speake  somewhat  of  him  according 
to  true  judgement  and  indifferencie:  because  peraclven- 
ture,  some  have  either  malevolently,  with  exceeding- 
bitterness  abused  his  honorable  ashes  contumeliously ; 
and  others  percase  which  have  as  blindly  in  the  contrary 
sanctified  him  as  one  more  than  a  man,  beyonde  his 

1  The  masque  of  Love  s  Labor  s  Won. 

"Her  firmnesse  cloth'd  him  in  variety."     [Cp.  p.  248.] 


Portrait  of  Essex.  287 

deserts  and  the  measure  of  his  nature;  [both  which  are 
most  odious  to  the  true  taste  of  all  noble  natures,]  I  say 
thus  much:  which  they  that  wisely  did  know  him,  will 
acknowledge  also.  His  minde  was  incomprehensible. 
By  nature  a  man  addicted  to  pleasures,  but  much  more 
to  glorie.  If  he  were  at  any  time  luxurious,  [which 
some  very  impudently  have  thrust  upon  his  dead  coffin, 
against  all  truth  and  modestie]  it  was  very  little:  and 
that,  when  he  was  idle,  which  was  very  seldom.  How- 
beit,  never  could  any  delicacies  or  corporall  comforts 
draw  him,  since  he  was  imployed  in  the  publike  counsels 
of  his  Prince  and  Countrey  to  neglect  any  serious  busi- 
nesse.  He  was  eloquent,  and  well  knew  the  guilefull 
trappes  and  insidious  treacheries  of  this  world,  by  good 
experience  and  much  reading.  He  was  affable,  and 
soone  any  man's  friend,  that  was  either  by  friends  com- 
mended unto  him,  or  had  any  specious  appearance  of 
good  qualities  in  him.  The  loftiness  of  his  wit  [as  I  may 
most  properly  term  it]  was  most  quick,  present,  and  in- 
credible: in  dissembling  with  counterfeit  friends,  and  in, 
concealing  any  matter  and  businesse  of  importance,  be- 
yond expectation. 1  He  was  bountifull,  magnificent,  and 
liberall,  in  all  the  course  of  his  life:  having  commended 
multitudes  of  people  unto  livings,  pensions,  preferments, 
and  great  sums  of  money;  as  appeared  both  by  the  land 
of  his  owne,  which  he  sould  and  engaged  to  maintaine 
the  same,  and  by  the  large  dispensation  of  his  soveraig- 
ne's  treasure,  committed  to  his  trust  and  discretion. 
And,  which  I  may  speake  in  truth  most  boldly,  his  for- 
tune was  always  good  before,  as  appeared  in  France 
and  Cadiz;  but  much  inferior  to  his  valorous  Industrie, 
until  his  late  unfortunate  voyage  in  Anno  1597 — :  and 
that  his  other  pestilent  and  inauspicious  expedition  for 
Ireland;  before  which  times  it  was  difficult,  to  be  discern- 
ed, whether  his  valour  or  fortune  were  more.  I  myselfe, 

*  The  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  dismantled  masque, 


288  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

a  boy,  have  seen  him  in  the  French  wanes  to  communi- 
cate in  sports,  and  sometimes  in  serious  matters,  with 
men  of  meane  condition  and  place,  [their  fortunes  and 
parentage  valued]  to  be  delighted  and  exercised  in  la- 
bouring with  the  mattock  in  trenches,  fosses  and  in  other 
workes  amongst  his  battels:  to  be  busied  in  setting  of 
watches,  in  making  of  barricadoes  at  his  quarter,  and  in 
often  walking  the  round. ]  Also  that  vice  [which  conta- 
gious ambition  much  arlecteth,]  could  never  be  noted  in 
him;  which  was,  to  detract  from  the  credit  and  good 
fame  of  any  of  his  fellows  in  her  majesties  counsell,  [they 
being  absent]  or  of  any  other  man.  Only  this  it  went 
neere  him,  and  laie  heavie  to  his  heart,  that  any  of  them 
should  be  thought  more  valiant  than  himself.  Being 
scarce  a  vice,  but  emulation  rather  proceeding  from  the 
mightinesse  of  his  spirit.  And  without  doubt,  he  did 
exceed  many  of  them  in  many  things.  By  which  means, 
even  as  Salust  describeth  Sylla,  so  did  he  become  pre- 
cious in  presence  of  his  souldiers.  From  his  childhood 
he  was  hardened  with  exercise,  "taking  pleasure  and  some 
travaile  and  labours,  which  other  men  for  the  most  part 
would  have  reputed  miseries  and  calamities.  His  ap- 
prehension and  prudeuce  was  admirable;  by  which  he 
would,  and  many  tirn'es  did,  prevent  and  turn  the  mis- 
chiefes  and  fallacies  of  his  enemies  upon  their  own  heads. 3 
He  was  circumspect  in  all  matters  appertaining  to  his 
owne  office  and  charge;  and  would  not  endure,  if  by  any 
means  counsell  or  engine  he  could  devise,  to  leave  anv 
safe  evasions  or  munitions,  offensive  or  defensive,  with 
his  enemies.  And  that  which  was  most  rare  in  so  great 
a  Captajne.  [though  in  discipline  of  warre  he  declared 


1  "A  little  touch  of  Harry  in  the  night 

Walking  from  watch  to  watch,  from  tent  to  tent." 
Henry  }'.   [Chorus,  ACT  iv.] 

"I  have  been  in  continual  practice,  I  shall  win  at  the  odds."  —  Hamlet,  \. 
7/if  mas(/tte  o/'  Love's  Labor's  II 'on.      Cp.  all  of  p.  2^0, 


Portra  it  of  Essex.  289 

himself  severe  as  was  fit,  meeke  and  honorable  towards 
his  Captaines  which  had  well  deserved,]  neither  did  his 
mildnesse  and  facilitie  withdraw  from  his  reputation,  nor 
his  severity  diminish  the  love  of  his  souldiers  only  this  to 
conclude  of  him  in  the  person  of  a  Generall. 

The  end  of  his  life  was  much  lamented  by  the  bet- 
ter and  nobler  part  of  his  countrymen.  It  was  very 
grievous  to  them  that  were  his  friends  and  lovers :  it  was 
pitied  and  repined  against  with  a  certain  kind  of  regret 
by  forrenners  and  strangers,  which  had  heard  of  his 
valour:  and  those  enemies,  or  emulators  rather,  of  his 
heroicall  vertues  in  Spaine  and  France,  which  had  felt 
the  weight  of  his  valour,  rejoyced  not  upon  report  of  his 
death.  I  would  [if  it  had  so  pleased  God]  that  he  might 
have  died  in  the  warres  upon  the  enemies  of  his  countrey ; 
that  I  might  with  good  cheere  have  registered  his  death 
in  these  Offices. 

To  conclude  with  his  description  of  body,  briefly 
being  the  same  with  that  which  Tacitus  did  write  of 
Julius  Agricola: — decentior  Quam  sublimior  fruit,  nihil 
nictus  in  vultu,  gratia  oris  super er at,  bonum  virum  facile 
credideres  magnum  libenter.  He  was  tall  and  in  au- 
thority: yet  was  he  more  comely  than  loftie.  In  his 
forehead  and  countenance  much  valour  and  boldnesse 
were  imprinted  and  expressed.  His  lookes  were  very 
gratious.  They  that  had  judiciously  beheld  him,  would 
have  easily  believed  that  he  was  a  very  good  man, 
and  would  have  been  very  glad  to  have  known  him  a 
mightie  man.  And  that  which  was  most  rare  and  ad- 
mirable in  men  of  our  age,  in  his  distresse  and  calamities 
his  mind  was  not  only  great  and  noble,  like  his  blood 
and  place,  but  much  loftier  and  firmer  than  in  his  most 
firme  honours  and  prosperitie. 

And  so  much  in  brief,  so  neare  as  I  could,  have  I 
done  to  life,  the  morall  qualities  and  perfections  of  that 
heroicall  Generall,  without  adulation  or  partialitie, — 
Four  Books  of  Offices,  Barnabe  Barnes,  \  606, 

19 


POEMS  BEARING  ON  THE 
AUTHORSHIP. 

To  the  memory   of  my  beloved,  the    Author,   Mr.    William 
Shakespeare,  and  what  he  hath  left  us.1 

To  draw  no  envy,  Shakespeare,  on  thy  name, 
Am  I  thus  ample  to  thy  book  and  fame; 
While  I  confess  thy  writings  to  be  such, 
As  neither  man,  nor  muse,  can  praise  too  much; 
'Tis  true,  and  all  men's  suffrage.      But  these  ways 
Were  not  the  paths  I  meant  unto  thy  praise; 
For  silliest  ignorance  on  these  may  light, 
Which,  when  it  sounds  at  best,  but  echoes  right; 
Or  blind  affection,  which  doth  ne'er  advance 
The  truth,  but  gropes,  and  urgeth  all  by  chance; 
Or  crafty  malice  might  pretend  this  praise, 
And  think  to  ruin,  where  it  seemed  to  raise. 
These  are,  as  some  infamous  bawd,  or  whore, 
Should  praise  a  matron;  what  would  hurt  her  more? 
But  thou  art  proof  against  them,  and,  indeed, 
Above  the  ill-fortune  of  them,  or  the  need. 
I,  therefore,  will  begin:  Soul  of  the  age! 
The  applause!  delight!  and  wonder  of  our  stage! 
My  Shakespeare  rise!  I  will  not  lodge  thee  by 
Chaucer,  or  Spenser,  or  bid  Beaumont  lie 


1  If  my  memory  is  not  at  fault  Dryden  branded  this  poem  "invidious  pane- 
gyric," but  not  so,  the  scope  is  eulogistic  and  satirical.  If,  through  necessity, 
the  Sonnets  of  1609  are  a  dismantled  Masque,  if,  through  necessity,  the  cher- 
ished character  assumed  by  our  dramatist  was  that  of  Ulysses,  then,  of  necessity, 
there  was  a  Shake-speare  and  a  Shakspere,  the  duality  in  name  being  in  harmony 
with  the  duality  of  the  Sonnets,  the  duality  of  the  Phrenix,  the  duality  of  Love's 
Martyr,  and  the  dual  drift  of  this  poem.  Cp.  p.  28. 

290 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  291 

A  little  further,  to  make  thee  a  room: 

Thou  art  a  monument  without  a  tomb, 

And  art  alive  still,  while  thy  book  doth  live, 

And  we  have  wits  to  read,  and  praiseto  give. 

That  I  not  mix  thee  so,1  my  brain  excuses; 

I  mean  with  great  but  disproportion'd  muses : 

For,  if  I  thought  my  judgment  were  of  years, 

I  should  commit  thee  surely  with  thy  peers. 

And  tell  how  far  thou  didst  our  Lily  outshine, 

Or  sporting  Kyd,  or  Marlow's  mighty  line: 

And  though  thou  hadst  small  Latin  and  less  Greek, 2 

From  thence  to  honour  thee,  I  will  not  seek 

For  names;  but  call  forth  thundering  Eschylus, 

Euripides,  and  Sophocles,  to  us, 

Pacuvius,  Accius,  him  of  Cordova  dead, 

To  live  again,  to  hear  thy  buskin  tread, 

And  shake  a  stage;  or,  when  thy  socks  were  on,  ^ 

Leave  thee  alone  for  the  comparison  I  3 

Of  all  that  insolent  Greece,  or  haughty  Rome       f 

Sent  forth,  or  since  did  from  their  ashes  come.     J 

Triumph,  my  Britain!  thou  hast  one  to  show, 

To  whom  all  scenes  of  Europe  homage  owe. 

He  was  not  of  an  age,  but  for  all  time; 

And  all  the  muses  still  were  in  their  prime, 

When,  like  Apollo  he  came  forth  to  warm 

Our  ears,  or  like  a  Mercury  to  charm ! 

Nature  herself  was  proud  of  his  designs,  ~1 

And  joy'd  to  wear  the  dressing  of  his  lines;        ^4 

Which  were  so  richly  spun,  and  woven  so  fit, 

As  since,  she  will  vouchsafe  no  other  wit. 


1  Referring  to  an  elegy  on  Shake-speare  and  Shakspere,  written  by  William 
Basse.     This  elegy  ["curious  in  its  way"]  is  given  on  p.  147. 

2  Cp.  note  2,  p.  225,  and  note  i,  p.  290. 

3  The  speaking  characters  of  the  Sonnets,  personified  abstractions,  the  acme 
of  Hellenic  bloom. 

*  Cp.  Spenser's  lines,  p.  10. 


292  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

The  merry  Greek,  tart  Aristophanes, 

Neat  Terence,  witty  Flatus,  now  not  please; 

But  antiquated  and  deserted  lie, 

As  they  were  not  of  nature's  family. 

Yet  must  I  not  give  nature  all;  thy  art, 

My  gentle  Shakespeare,  must  enjoy  a  part: 

For  though  the  poet's  matter  nature    be. 

His  art  doth  give  the  fashion;  and,  that  he 

Who  casts  to  write  a  living  line,  must  sweat, 

[Such  as  thine  are]  and  strike  the  second  heat 

Upon  the  muses'  anvil;  turn  the  same, 

[And  himself  with  it]  that  he  thinks  to  frame; 

Or  for  the  laurel,  he  may  gain  a  scorn ; 

For  a  good  poet's  made,  as  well  as  born: 

And  such  wert  thou !     Look,  how  the  father's  face 

Lives  in  his  issue;  even  so  the  race 

Of  Shakespeare's  mind,  and  manners,  brightly  shines 

In  his  well-turned  and  true-filed  lines; 

In  each  of  which  he  seems  to  shake  a  lance, 

As  brandish'd  at  the  eyes  of  ignorance. 

Sweet  Swan  of  Avon!1  ivhat  a  sight  it  were 

To  see  thee  in  our  water  yet  appear, 

And  make  those  flights  upon  the  banks  of  Thames, 

That  so  did  take  Eliza,  and  our  James.3 

But  stay,  I  see  thee  in  the  hemisphere 

Advanc'd,  and  made  a  constellation  there! 

Shine  forth,  thou  star  of  poets,  and  with  rage, 

Or  influence,  chide,  or  cheer  the  drooping  stage, 

Which,  since  thy  flight  from  hence,  hath  mourn'd  like 

night, 
And  despairs  day,  but  for  thy  volume's  light. 

Ben  Jonson  in  First  Folio,   1623, 


1  Cp.  note  2,  p.  225,  and  note  i,  p.  290. 

8  Had  Essex,  instead  of  James,  been  Elizabeth's  successor,  "Hyperion  to  a 
satyr,"  hence,  no  doubt,  James  was  greatly  "taken"  with  the  assumption  of  the 
Shake-spearian  authorship  by  the  player.  Cp.  note  3,  p.  201. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  293 


AN  ECLOGUE  GRATULATORY. 

To  the  renowned  Shepherd  of  Albions  Arcadia:  Robert  Earl 
of  Essex  and  Ewe,  for  his  welcome  into  England  from  Portugal.1 

Piers.  Palinode. 

In  Patriam  rediit  magnus  Apollo  suam. 

Palinode. 

Herdgroom,  what  makes  thy  pipe  to  go  so  loud? 
Why  be  thy  looks  so  smirking  and  so  proud? 
Verily  plain  Piers,  but  this  doth  ill  agree 
With  th'  bad  fortune  that  ever  thwarteth  thee. 

Piers. 

What  thwarteth  me,  good  Palinode,  is  fate, 
Aye,  born  was  Piers  to  be  unfortunate: 
Yet  shall  my  bag-pipe  go  so  loud  and  shrill 
That  heaven  may  entertain  my  kind  good- will; 

lo,  io  psean! 

Palinode. 

Thou  art  too  bold,  and  crowdest  all  too  high; 
Beware  a  chip  fall  not  into  thine  eye: 
Man,  if  triumphals  here  be  in  request, 
Then  let  them  chant  them  that  can  chant  them  best. 

Piers. 

Thou  art  a  sour  swain,  Palinode,  perdy; 
My  bag-pipe  vaunteth  not  of  victory: 
'Tis  only  a  twang  I  beg  to  make 
For  chivalry  and  lovely  learning's  sake! 

Io,  io  psean! 

1  It  has  been  noted  by  I}r.  Latham  that  in  the  text  of  one  of  the  early  quar- 
tos, Hamlet  was  sent  not  to  England  but  to  "Portingal." 


294  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

Of  arms  to  sing  I  have  nor  lust  nor  skill; 
Enough  is  me  to  blazon  my  good-will, 
To  welcome  home  that    long  hath  lacked  been, 
One  of  the  jolliest  shepherds  of  our  green; 

lo,  io  paean! 

Palinode. 

Tell  me,  good  Piers,  I  pray  thee  tell  it  me, 
What  may  this  jolly  swain  or  shepherd  be, 
Or  whence  y-comen, *  that  he  thus  welcome  is, 
That  thou  art  all  so  blithe  to  see  his  bliss? 

Piers. 

Palinode,  thou  makest  a  double  demand, 
Which  I  will  answer  as  I  understand; 
Yet  will  I  not  forget,  so  God  me  mend, 
To  pipe  loud  paeans  as  my  stanzas  end. 

Io,  io  paean! 

This  shepherd,  Palinode,  whom  my  pipe  praiseth, 
Whose  glory  my  reed  to  the  welkin  raiseth, 
He's  a  great  herdgroom,  certes,  but  no  swain, 
Save  hers  that  is  the  flower  of  Phoebe's  plain. 

Io,  io  paean! 

He  waiteth  where  our  great  shepherdess  doth  wun, 
He  playeth  in  the  shade  and  thriveth  in  the  sun; 
He  shineth  on  the  plains,  his  lusty  flock  him  by, 
As  when  Apollo  kept  in  Arcady; 

Io,  io  paean! 

Fellow  in  arms  he  was  in  their  flow'ring  days 
With  that  great  shepherd,  good  Philisides, 3 
And  in  sad  fable  did  I  see  him  dight, 
Moaning  the  miss  of  Pallas'  peerless  knight; 

Io,  io  paean! 


1  He  comes.        *  Cp.  the  Charles  Knight  note,  p.  242.       3  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  295 

With  him  he  served,  and  watch'd  and  waited  late, 
To  keep  the  grim  wolf  from  Eliza's  gate; 
And  for  their  mistress,  thoughten  these  two  swains, 
They  moughten  never  take  too  mickle  pains. 

lo,  io  psean! 

But,  ah  for  grief!  that  jolly  groom  is  dead,     | 
For  whom  the  Muses  silver  tears  have  shed;  J  1 
Yet  in  this  lovely  swain,  source  of  our  glee* 
Must  all  his  virtues  sweet  reviven  be: 

Io,  io  paean! 

Palinode. 

Thou  foolish  swain  that  thus  art  over  joy'd, 
How  soon  may  here  thy  courage  be  accoy'd! 
If  he  be  one  come  new  from  western  coast, 
Small  cause  hath  he,  or  thou  for  him,  to  boast. 

I  see  no  palm,  I  see  no  laurel  boughs 

Circle  his  temple  or  adorn  his  brows; 

I  hear  no  triumphs  for  this  late  return, 

But  many  a  herdsman  more  disposed  to  mourn. 

Piers. 

Pale  look'st  thou,  like  spite,  proud  Palinode; 
Venture  doth  loss,  and  war  doth  danger  bode: 
But  thou  art  of  those  harvesters,  I  see, 
Would  at  one  shock  spoil  all  the  filberd-tree. 

Io,  io  paean! 

For  shame,  I  say,  give  virtue  honors  due! 
I'll  please  the  shepherd  but  by  telling  true; 
Palm  mayst  thou  see  and  bays  about  his  head, 
That  all  his  flock  right  forwardly  hath  led; 

Io,  io  paean! 

1  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 

2  In  the  year  1589,  Peele  was  employed  [and  possible  in  daily  contact]  with 
the  player  Shakspere  at  the  Blackfriars  theatre. 


296  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

But  woe  is  me  rude  lad,  fame's  full  of  lies, 
Envy  doth  aye  true  honor's  deeds  despise; 
Yet  chivalry  will  mount  with  glorious  wings, 
Spite  all,  and  nestle  near  the  seat  of  kings. 

lo,  io  paean! 

Base  thrall  is  he  that  is  foul  slander's  slave: 
To  pleasen  all  what  wight  may  him  behave? 
Yea,  Jove's  great  son,  though  he  were  now  alive, 
Mought  find  no  way  this  labour  to  achieve. 

Io,  io  paean! 

O  honor's  fire,  that  not  the  brackish  sea 
Mought  quench,  nor  foeman's  fearful  'larums  lay! 
So  high  those  golden  flakes  done  mount  and  climb 
That  they  exceed  the  reach  of  shepherd's  rhyme. 

Io,  io  paean! 

Palinode. 

Honor  is  in  him  that  doth  it  bestow; 
Thy  reed  is  rough,  thy  seat  is  all  too  low 
To  write  such  praise;  hadst  thou  blithe  Homers  quill, 
Thou  moughtst  have  matter  equal  with  thy  skill. 

Piers. 

Twit  me  with  boldness,  Palin,  as  thou  wilt, 
My  good  mind  be  my  glory  and  my  guilt; 
Be  my  praise  less  or  mickle,  all  is  one, 
His  high  deserts  deserven  to  be  known. 

Io,  io  paean! 

George  Peele,   1589. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  297 

Scattered  through  the  last  decade  of  Elizabeth's 
reign  are  many  poems  of  rare  beauty  signed  Ignoto.  As 
far  as  I  have  been  able  to  gather,  the  use  of  this  name 
ceased  with  the  death  of  Essex  in  1601.  In  Robert 
Chester's  Love's  Martyr  "Ignoto"  is  the  moving  spirit; 
it  is  from  Ignoto's  lines  Jonson,  Chapman  and  Marston 
take  their  cue  for  the  burning  of  the  second  Phoenix. 

THE  FIRST. 

The  silver  vault  of  heaven,  hath  but  one  eie, 
And  that's  the  Sunne:  the  foule-maskt  Ladie,  Night 
[Which  blots  the  cloudes,  the  white  booke  of  the  skie,] 
But  one  sicke  PJnvbe,  fever-shaking  light: 

The  heart,  one  string:  so,  thus  in  single  turnes, 

The  world  one  Phoenix,  till  another  burnes. 

THE  BURNING. 

Suppose  here  burnes  this  wonder  of  a  breath, 
In  righteous  flames,  and  holy-heated  fires: 
[Like  Musicke  which  doth  rapt  it  selfe  to  death, 
Sweet'ning  the  inward  roome  of  mans  Desires;] 
So  she  wast's  both  her  wings  in  piteous  strife; 
The  flame  that  eates  her,  feedes  the  others  life: 

Her  rare-dead  ashes,  fill  a  rare-live  urne: 

One  Phoenix  borne,  another  Phoenix  burne. 

Ignoto  in  Love' s  Martyr,  p.   181. 

In  Love 's  Martyr  the  above  lines  immediately  pre- 
cede the  poem  of  The  Phcenix  and  Turtle  Dove — i.e., 
The  Dramatis  Personse  of  The  Masque  of  Love  s  Labor  s 
Won,  showing,  almost  conclusively,  that  Robert  Chester's 
Love  s  Martyr  is  a  posthumous  work  of  Shake-speare. * 

( 'Speaking  generally,  I  do  not  rate  Robert  Chester 
as  a  poet  very  high,  [p.  Ixii.  ]  but  a  sympathetic  reader 
will  come,  now  and  again,  on  "brave  translunary  things" 
[p.  ixiii.].  There  are  touches  and  allusions  throughout 
that  I  can  explain  alone  by  interchange  of  conversation 
between  the  Poet  [Chester]  and  Essex  [p.  Ixvii.]  and 
I  think  I  can  detect  in  some  of  his  lines  a  reflex  or  re- 
membrance of  the  rhythm  of  Shakespeare's  lines"  [p. 
Ixvii.]. — Introduction  to  Loves  Martyr,  [Dr.  Grosart, 
Ed.],  1878. 

1  Cp.  note  from  Saintsbury,  p.  41,  and  Chester's  lines,  p.  75. 


298  Shake-speare  England *s    Ulysses, 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  TO  HIS  MUSE. 

And  foul  befall  that  Cursed  Cuckoe's  throt, 
That  so  hath  crossed  sweet  Philomelaes  note. 

Poems  of  Essex. 

As  it  fell  upon  a  day, 

In  the  merry  month  of  May, 

Sitting  in  a  pleasant  shade 

Which  a  group  of  myrtles  made, 

Beasts  did  leap,  and  birds  did  sing, 

Trees  did  grow,  and  plants  did  spring; 

Every  thing  did  banish  moan, 

Save  the  nightingale  alone: 

She,  poor  bird,  as  all  forlorn, 

Lean'd  her  breast  against  a  thorn, 

And  there  sung  the  dolefull'st  ditty, 

That  to  hear  it  was  great  pity: 

'Fie,  fie,  fie,'  now  would  she  cry; 

'Tereu,  tereu'!  by-and-by; 

That  to  hear  her  so  complain, 

Scarce  I  could  from  tears  refrain; 

For  her  griefs,  so  lively  shown, 

Made  me  think  upon  mine  own. 

Ah,  thought  I,  thou  mourn'st  in  vain! 

None  takes  pity  on  thy  pain: 

Senseless  trees,  they  cannot  hear  thee; 

Ruthless  beasts,  they  will  not  cheer  thee: 

King  Pandion  he  is  dead;1 

All  thy  friends  are  lapp'd  in  lead; 

All  thy  fellow  birds  do  sing, 

1  "Our  pleasant  Willy,  ah!  is  dead  of  late." 
That  is 

"Doth  rather  choose  to  sit  in  idle  cell, 

Than  so  himself  to  mockery  to  sell." 

Spenser  [Cp.  p.  10] . 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  299 

Careless  of  thy  sorrowing, 

Even  so,  poor  bird,  like  thee, 

None  alive  will  pity  me. 

Whilst  as  fickle  Fortune  smiled, 

Thou  and  I  were  both  beguiled. 

Every  one  that  flatters  thee 

Is  no  friend  in  misery. 

Words  are  easy,  like  the  wind; 

Faithful  friends  are  hard  to  find: 

Every  man  will  be  thy  friend 

Whilst  thou  hast  wherewith  to  spend; 

But  if  store  of  crowns  be  scant, 

No  man  will  supply  thy  want. 

If  that  one  be  prodigal. 

Bountiful  they  will  him  call, 

And  with  such-like  flattering, 

'Pity  but  he  were  a  king;' 

If  he  be  addict  to  vice, 

Quickly  him  they  will  entice; 

If  to  women  he  be  bent, 

They  have  at  commandement: 

But  if  Fortune  once  do  frown, 

Then  farewell  his  great  renown; 

They  that  fawn'd  on  him  before 

Use  his  company  no  more. 

He  that  is  thy  friend  indeed, 

He  will  help  thee  in  thy  need: 

If  thou  sorrow,  he  will  weep; 

If  thou  wake,  he  cannot  sleep; 

Thus  of  every  grief  in  heart 

He  with  thee  doth  bear  a  part. 

These  are  certain  signs  to  know 

Faithful  friend  from  flattering  foe. 

Ignoto  in  Englands  Helicon,   1600. 


300  Shake-speare  England 's    Ulysses, 

THE   ROBIN. 

Bonny  sweet  Robin  is  all  my  joy. — Ophelia. 

Of  all  the  birds  that  fly  with  wing, 

The  Robin  hath  no  peere, 
For  he  in  field  and  house  can  sing 

And  chant  it  all  the  year: 
This  Robin  is  a  pretty  one, 

Well  form'd  at  point  devise 
A  mynion  bird  to  look  upon 

And  sure  of  worthy  praise. 
His  looks  be  brave,  his  voice  full  shrill, 

His  feathers  bravely  pruned, 
And  all  his  members  wrought  at  will, 

With  notes  full  trimly  tuned. 


The  Nightingale  will  scarce  be  tame, 

No  company  keep  he  can; 
He  dare  not  show  his  face  for  shame; 

He  feareth  the  look  of  man: 
But  Robin  like  a  man  can  look, 

And  doth  shun  no  place; 
He  will  sing  in  every  nook, 

And  stare  you  in  the  face. 
He  taketh  bread  upon  the  board, 

And  then  away  he  goes; 
Wherefore,  to  tell  you  at  a  word, 

His  noble  kind  he  shows. 

1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  298. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship. 


301 


They  are  but  woodcocks  that  do  frown, 

At  Robins  hap  so  good: 
He  hurts  no  bird  in  field  or  town, 

In  forest  nor  in  wood, 
Although  he  steps  from  beam  to  bawlke, 

And  hops  about  the  bed; 
When  Peacocks1  proud  about  do  walk, 

With  hearts  as  cold  as  lead. 
Yet  Robin  deserves  praise  therefore, 

If  he  his  merits  have, 
That  from  the  frost  and  winter  sore, 

His  feathers  so  can  save. 


Now  Robin,  rattle  forth  thy  song, 

And  make  thy  words  to  ring: 
I  pray  to  God  thou  prosper  long, 

And  all  that  so  can  sing. 
Fie  on  all  foolish  dastard  birds, 

That  sing  with  cowards  voice: 
They  may  be  likened  unto  owls 

Which  nowhere  can  rejoice. 
As  I  have  said,  so  say  I  still, 

The  Robin  passeth  all, 
That  ever  sang  so  at  his  will 

Among'st  us,  great  or  small. 

The  Cam  den  Miscellany,    [Vol.  3,  p.  21.]. 

NOTE— The  poem  called  "The  Robin,"  refers  covertly  to  Robert  Earl 
of  Essex.  The  production  must  have  been  penned  by  one  of  his  friends  or  ad- 
herents, while  he  was  in  possession  of  the  warmest  regards  of  the  Queen.  She 
was  in  the  habit  of  familiarly  calling  him  her  "Robin"  and  upon  that  point,  and 
in  praise  of  the  habits  and  qualities  of  the  bird,  the  production  is  founded.  It 
must  have  possessed  in  its  perfect  state  [as  we  may  judge  from  the  obviously 
mutilated  copy  before  us]  no  little  spirit  and  elegance.  As  we  have  never  seen 
any  other  transcript  of  it,  we  have  no  means  of  correcting  its  errors,  and  it  is 
much  easier  to  detect  the  mistakes  of  the  scribe,  than  to  amend  them. — Editor, 
Camden  Society  Miscellany,  [Vol.  3,  p.  lo.J. 

1  Cp.  note  4,  p.  237. 

2  Cp.  note  i,  frontispage  2. 


302  Shake-speare  England ' s  Ulysses^ 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  PRAISE  OF  HIS 
SACRED   DIANA.1 

Praised  be  Diana's  fair  and  harmless  light, 

Praised  be  the  dews  wherewith  she  moists  the  ground, 

Praised  be  her  beams,  the  glory  of  the  night, 

Praised  be  her  power,  by  which  all  powers  abound. 

Praised  be  her  nymphs,  with  whom  she  decks  the  woods, 
Praised  be  her  knights,  in  whom  true  honor  lives, 
Praised  be  that  force  by  which  she  moves  the  floods; 
Let  that  Diana  shine  which  all  these  gives. 

In  heaven  queen  she  is  among  the  spheres, 
She  mistress-like  makes  all  things  to  be  pure; 
Eternity  in  her  oft  change  she  bears; 
She  beauty  is,  by  her  the  fair  endure. 

Time  wears  her  not,  she  doth  his  chariot  guide; 
Mortality  below  her  orb  is  placed; 
By  her  the  virtue  of  the  stars  down  slide, 
In  her  is  virtue's  perfect  image  cast. 

A  knowledge  pure  it  is  her  worth  to  know; 

With  Circes  let  them  dwell  that  think  not  so. 

Ignoto  in  England' s  Helicon,  1600  [Bulleii,  Ed. ,  p.  127]. 


1  Probably  these  matchless  lines  were  written  in  honor  of  the  bragging  Dame — 
not  unexpert  in  cunning,  who  came  to  the  relief  of  Shake-speare  in  1591.  The 
Diana  of  Ephesus,  Cp  The  Argument,  p.  23. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  303 


AN  HEROICAL  POEM. 

My  wanton  Muse  that  whilom  wont  to  sing 
Fair  beauty's  praise  and  Venus'  sweet  delight, 
Of  late  had  changed  the  tenor  of  her  string 
To  higher  tunes  than  serve  for  Cupid's  fight: 

Shrill  trumpets'  sound,  sharp  swords,  and  lances  strong, 
War,  blood,  and  death,  were  matter  of  her  song. 

The  god  of  love  by  chance  had  heard  thereof, 

That  I  was  proved  a  rebel  to  his  crown; 

"Fit  words  for  war,"  quoth  he,  with  angry  scoff, 

"A  likely  man  to  write  of  Mars  his  frown. 

Well  are  they  sped  whose  praises  he  shall  write, 
Whose  wanton  pen  can  nought  but  love  indite." 

This  said,  he  whisk'd  his  party-colour'd  wings, 
And  down  to  earth  he  comes  more  swift  than  thought; 
Then  to  my  heart  in  angry  haste  he  flings, 
To  see  what  change  these  news  of  wars  had  wrought. 
He  pries,  and  looks,  he  ransacks  ev'ry  vein, 
Yet  finds  he  nought,  save  love  and  lover's  pain. 

Then  I  that  now  perceived  his  needless  fear, 
With  heavy  smile  began  to  plead  my  cause: 
"in  vain,"  quoth  I,  "this  endless  grief  I  bear, 
In  vain  I  strive  to  keep  thy  grievious  laws, 

If  after  proof  so  often  trust}'  found, 

Unjust  suspect  condemn  me  as  unsound. 

Is  this  the  guerdon  of  my  faithful  heart? 

Is  this  the  hope  on  which  my  life  is  stay'd? 

Is  this  the  ease  of  never-ceasing  smart? 

Is  this  the  price  that  for  my  pains  is  paid? 
Yet  better  serve  fierce  Mars  in  bloody  field, 
Where  death  or  conquest,  end  or  joy  doth  yield. 

'  Long  have  I  served,  what  is  my  pay  but  pain? 
Oft  have  I  sued,  what  gain  I  but  delay? 
M}r  faithful  love  is  quited  with  disdain, 
My  grief  a  game,  my  pen  is  made  a  play; 

Yea,  love  that  doth  in  other  favour  find, 

To  me  is  counted  madness  out  of  kind, 


304  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


"And  last  of  all,  but  grievous  most  of  all, 

Thyself,  sweet  Love,  hath  kill'd  me  with  suspect. 

Could  Love  believe,  that  I  from  Love  would  fall? 

Is  war  of  force  to  make  me  Love  neglect? 
No,  Cupid  knows  my  mind  is  faster  set, 
Than  that  by  war  I  should  my  love  forget. 

"My  Muse  indeed  to  war  inclines  her  mind, 
The  famous  acts  of  worthy  Brute  to  write; 
To  whom  the  gods  this  island's  rule  assign'd, 
Which  long  he  sought  by  seas  through  Neptune's  spite: 
With  such  conceits  my  busy  head  doth  swell, 
But  in  my  heart  nought  else  but  love  doth  dwell- 

"And  in  this  war  thy  part  is  not  the  least; 

Here  shall  my  Muse  Brute's  noble  love  declare, 

Here  shalt  thou  see  thy  double  love  increased, 

Of  fairest  twins  that  ever  lady  bare. 

Let  Mars  triumph  in  armour  shining  bright, 
His  conquer'd  arms  shall  be  thy  triumph's  light. 

"As  he  the  world,  so  thou  shalt  him  .subdue, 

And  I  thy  glory  through  the  world  will  ring, 

So  by  my  pains  thou  wilt  vouchsafe  to  rue 

And  kill  dispair."     With  that  he  whisk'd  his  wing, 

And  bid  me  write,  and  promised  wished  rest; 

But  sore  I  fear  false  hope  will  be  the  best. 

*  Ignoto. 


This  poem  had  previously  appeared  in  Davison's  Poetical 
Rhapsody,  subscribed  "A.  W.,"  and  headed  "Upon  an  Heroical 
Poem  which  he  had  begun1  [in  imitation  of  Virgil]  of  the  first  in- 
habiting of  this  famous  isle  by  Brute  and  the  Trojans."  It  is  in 
the  Oxford  edition  of  Raleigh's  Poems;  but  there  is  not  the  slight- 
est evidence  to  show  that  Raleigh  was  the  author.  There  is  an 
early  MS.  copy  in  Harleian  MS.  6901  without  a  signatureV  En- 
gland's Helicon  [Bullen,  Ed.,  1887]. 


Ignoto  was  dead.     Cp.  p,  225. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  305 

Happy  where  he  could  finish  forth  his  fate 

In  some  enchanted  desert,  most  obscure 

From  all  society,  from  love,  from  hate 

Of  worldly  folk,  then  would  he  sleep  secure; 

Then  wake  again  and  yield  God  ever  praise. 

Content  with  hips  and  haws  and  bramble-berry, 

In  contemplation  passing  still  his  days, 

And  change  of  holy  thoughts  to  make  him  merry; 

And  when  he  dies  his  tomb  may  be  a  bush, 

Where  harmless  robin  dwells  with  gentle  thrush. 

Poems  of  Essex. 

To  a  worthy  lord,  now  dead,  *  upon  presenting  him, 
for  a  new  years  gift,  with  Caesar's  Commentaries  and 
Cornelius  Tacitus. 

Worthily  famous  lord,  whose  virtues  rare, 
Set  in  the  gold  of  never-stain'd  nobility," 
And  noble  mind  shining  in  true  humility, 
Make  you  admir'd  of  all  that  virtuous  are: 

If,  as  your  sword  with  envy  imitates 

Great  Caesar's  sword  in  all  his  deeds  victorious; 
So  your  learn'd  pen  would  strive  to  be  glorious, 
And  write  your  acts  perform 'd  in  foreign  states; 

Or  if  some  one,  with  the  deep  wit  inspired 
Of  matchless  Tacitus,  would  then  historify, 
Then  Caesar's  works  so  much  we  should  not  glorify, 

And  Tacitus  would  be  much  less  desired. 

But  till  yourself,  or  some  such  put  them  forth, 

Accept  of  these  as  pictures  of  your  worth. 

Francis  Davison. 

Probably  the  unfortunate  Robert  Earl  of  Essex, 
who,  as  is  stated  in  the  Memoir,  was  in  some  degree 
the  patron  of  Erancis  Davison. — Davison  s  Poetical 
Rhapsody,  [Nicolas,  Ed.,  1826]. 

1  Ignoto  was  dead.     Cp.  note  i,  p.  304. 
.    20 


306  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

THE  SHEPHERD'S  SLUMBER., 

In  peascod  time,  when  hound  to  horn 

Gives  ear  till  buck  be  kill'd, 
And  little  lads  with  pipes  of  corn 

Sat  keeping  beasts  a-field, 
I  want  to  gather  strawberries  tho, 

By  woods  and  groves  full  fair; 
And  parch'd  my  face  with  Phoebus  so, 

In  walking  in  the  air, 
That  down  I  laid  me  by  a  stream, 

With  boughs  all  over-clad; 
And  there  I  met  the  strangest  dream 

That  ever  shepherd  had. 
Methought  I  saw  each  Christmas  game, 

Each  revel  all  and  some, 
And  everything  that  I  can  name, 

Or  may  in  fancy  come. 
The  substance  of  the  sights  I  saw 

In  silence  pass  they  shall, 
Because  I  lack  the  skill  to  draw 

The  order  of  them  all; 
But  Venus  shall  not  pass  my  pen, 

Whose  maidens  in  disdain 
Did  feed  upon  the  hearts  of  men 

That  Cupid's  bow  had  slain. 
And  that  blind  boy  was  all  in  blood, 

Be-bathed  up  to  the  ears, 
And  like  a  conqueror  he  stood, 

And  scorned  lover's  tears. 
"I  have,"  quoth  he,  "more  hearts  at  call 

Than  Caesar  could  command, 
And  like  the  deer  I  make  them  fall, 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  307 

That  runneth  o'er  the  land. 
One  drops  down  here,  another  there; 

In  bushes  as  they  groan, 
I  bend  a  scornful  careless  ear, 

To  hear  them  make  their  moan." 
"Ah,  sir,"  quoth  Honest  Meaning  then, 

"Thy  boy-like  brags  I  hear; 
When  thou  hast  wounded  many  a  man, 

As  huntsman  doth  the  deer, 
Becomes  it  thee  to  triumph  so? 

Thy  mother  wills  it  not; 
For  she  had  rather  break  thy  bow, 

Than  thou  shoud'st  play  the  sot. " 
"What  saucy  merchant  speaketh  now?" 

Said  Venus  in  her  rage; 
"Art  thou  so  blind  thou  know'st  not  how 

I  govern  every  age  ? 
My  son  doth  shoot  no  shaft  in  waste, 

To  me  the  boy  is  bound ; 
He  never  found  a  heart  so  chaste, 

But  he  had  power  to  wound." 
"Not  so,  fair  goddess,"  quoth  Free-will, 

"In  me  there  is  a  choice; 
And  cause  I  am  of  mine  own  ill 

If  I  in  thee  rejoice. 
And  when  I  yield  myself  a  slave 

To  thee,  or  to  thy  son, 
Such  recompense  I  ought  not  have, 

If  things  be  rightly  done. " 
"Why,  fool,"  stepp'd  forth  Delight  and  said, 

"When  thou  art  conquer'd  thus, 
Then,  lo!  dame  Lust,  that  wanton  maid. 


308  '  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

Thy  mistress  is,  I  wus. 
And  Lust  is  Cupid's  darling  dear, 

Behold  her  where  she  goes; 
She  creeps  the  milk-warm  flesh  so  near, 

She  hides  her  under  close, 
WJiere  many  privy  thoughts  do  dwell, 

A  heaven  here  on  earth ; 
For  they  have -never  mind  of  hell, 

They  think  so  much  on  mirth." 
4 'Be  still,  Good  Meaning,  "  quoth  Good  Sport, 

"Let  Cupid  triumph  make; 
For  sure  his  kingdom  shall  be  short, 

If  we  no  pleasure  take. 
Fair  Beauty,  and  her  play-pheers  gay, 

The  virgins  vestal  too, 
Shall  sit  and  with  their  fingers  play, 

As  idle  people  do. 
If  honest  meaning  fall  to  frown, 

And  I  good  Sport  decay, 
Thei]  Venus'  glory  will  come  down 

And  they  will  pine  away," 
"Indeed"  quote  Wit,   "this  your  device 

With  strangeness  must  be  wrought; 
And  where  you  see  these  women  nice, 

And  looking  to  be  sought, 
With  scrowling  brows  their  follies  check, 

And  so  give  them  the  fig; 
Let  Fancy  be  no  more  at  beck, 

When  Beauty  looks  so  big. " 
When  Venus  heard  how  they  conspired 

To  murther  women  so, 
Methought  indeed  the  house  was  fired, 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  309 

With  storms  and  lightning  tho. 
The  thunderbolt  through  windows  burst, 

And  in  their  steps  a  wight, 
Which  seem'd  some  soul  or  spirit  accurst, 

So  ugly  was  the  sight. 
"I  charge  you,  ladies  all,"  quoth  he, 

"Look  to  yourselves  in  haste; 
For  if  that  men  so  wilful  be, 

And  have  their  thoughts  so  chaste, 
That  they  can  tread  on  Cupid's  breast, 

And  march  on  Venus'  face, 
Then  they  shall  sleep  in  quiet  rest, 

When  you  shall  wail  your  case!" 
With  that  had  Venus  all  in  spite 

Stirr'd  up  the  dames  to  ire; 
And  Lust  fell  cold,  and  Beauty  white 

Sat  dabbling  with  Desire, 
Whose  mutt'ring  words  I  might  not  mark, 

Much  whispering  there  arose; 
The  day  did  lower,  the  sun  wax'd  dark, . 

Away  each  lady  goes. 
But  whither  went  this  angry  flock  ? 

Our  Lord  himselfe  doth  know. 
Wherewith  full  loudly  crew  the  cock, 

And  I  awaked  so. 
A  dream,  quote  I,  a  dog  it  is, 

I  take  thereon  no  keep; 
I  gage  my  head  such  toys  as  this 

Doth  spring  from  lack  of  sleep. 

Ignoto  in  England ' s  Helicon,  Bullen,  p.  222. 


310  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


TO  CYNTHIA. 

My  thoughts  are  wing'd  with  Hopes,  my   Hopes  with 

Love; 

Mount  Love  unto  the  moon  in  clearest  night, 
And  say,  as  she  doth  in  the  heavens  move, 
On  earth  so  wanes  and'  waxeth  my  delight : 
And  whisper  this,  but  softly,  in  her  ears, 
Hope  oft  doth  hang  the  head  and  Trust  sheds  tears. 

And  you,  my  Thoughts,  that  seem  mistrust  to  carry, 
If  for  mistrust  my  mistress  you  do  blame, 
Say,  though  you  alter,  yet  you  do  not  vary, 
As  she  doth  change  and  yet  remain  the  same: 
Distrust  doth  enter  hearts,  but  not  infect, 
And  Love  is  sweetest  season'd  with  Suspect. 

If  she  for  this  with  clouds  do  mask  her  eyes, 
And  make  the  heavens  dark  with  her  disdain, 
With  windy  sighs  disperse  them  in  the  skies, 
Or  with  thy  tears  derobe  them  into  rain, 

Thoughts,  Hopes,  and  Love,  return  to  me  no  more, 
Till  Cynthia  shine  as  she  hath  shone  before. 

Ignoto  in  England '  s  Helicon  1600,  Bullcn,  p.   149. 

'  'These  verses  have  been  ascribed  to  Shakespeare  on 
the  authority  of  a  common-place  book,  which  is  preserved 
in  the  Hamburgh  city  library.  In  this  the  lines  are 
subscribed  W.  S.  and  the  copy  is  dated  1606.  The 
little  poem  is  quite  worthy  of  Shakespeare's  sonneteer- 
ing pen  and  period.  The  alliteration  in  sound  and  sense ; 
the  aerial  fancy  moving  with  such  a  gravity  of  motion ; 
the  peculiar  corruscation  that  makes  it  hard  to  determine 
whether  the  flash  be  a  sparkle  of  fancy  or  the  twinkle  of 
wit:  are  all  characteristic  proofs  of  its  authorship.  No 
other  poet  of  the  period  save  Spenser  could  have  been 
thus  measuredly  extravagant,  and  he  would  not  have 
dared  the  perilous  turn  on  'mistress'  and  'mistrust. ' 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  311 

The  line. 

"And  love  is  sweetest  seasoned  with  suspect" 
surely  comes  from  the  same  mint  as 

"The  ornament  of  beauty  is  suspect." — Sonnet  6o-LXX.,  p.  85. 
also  the  line, 

"And  make  the  heavens  dark  with  her  disdain" 

is  essentially  Shakspearian;  one  of  those  which  occur  at 
times,  after  threading  the  way  daintily  through  intricate 
windings,  sweeping  out  into  the  broader  current  with  a 
full  stroke  of  music  and  imagination,  such  as  this  from 
the  1 8th  sonnet, 

"But  thy  eternal  summer  shall  not  fade." 

Then  the  'windy  sighs,'  and  the  tears  for  rain  are 
just  as  recognisable  as  a  bit  of  the  Greek  mythology. 
Here  is  one  of  the  Poet's  pet  trinckets  of  fancy.  With 
him  sighs  and  tears,  'poor  fancy's  followers !'  are  sorrow's 
wind  and  rain. ] 

I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  the  poem  being  Shak- 
speare's  own,  and  my  suggestion  is  that  it  was  written 
for  the  Earl  of  Essex,  at  a  time  when  the  Queen,  'Cyn- 
thia ,  was  not  shining  on  him  with  her  favouring  smile, 
and  that  Essex  had  it  set  to  music,  by  Douland,  to  be 
sung  at  Court. — Shakspeares  Sonnets,  Massey,  pp.  466, 

467- 

1  "Storming  her  world  with  sorrozv's  ivind  and  rain." 

A  Lover 's  Lament. 
The  winds  thv  sighs. 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  in.  5. 
"We  cannot  call  her  "winds  and  -waters,  sighs  and  tears." 

Antony  and  Cleopatra. 
"Where  are  my  tears?     Rain,  rain,  to  lay  this  ivind." 

Troilus  and  Cressida. 


3 1 2  Shake-spectre  England 's  Ulysses, 


AN  INVECTIVE  AGAINST  LOVE. 

All  is  not  gold  that  shineth  bright  in  show; 

Not  every  flower  so  good  as  fair  to  sight; 

The  deepest  streams  above  do  calmest  flow, 

And  strongest  poisons  oft  the  taste  delight. 
The  pleasant  bait  doth  hide  the  harmful  hook, 
And  false  deceit  can  lend  a  friendly  look. 

Love  is  the  gold  whose  outward  hue  doth  pass, 
Whose  first  beginnings  goodly  promise  make 
Of  pleasures  fair  and  fresh  as  summer's  grass, 
Which  neither  sun  can  parch  nor  wind  can  shake; 
But  when  the  mould  should  in  the  fire  be  tried, 
The  gold  is  gone,  the  dross  doth  still  abide. 

Beauty  the  flower  so  fresh,  so  fair,  so  gay, 
So  sweet  to  smell,  so  soft  to  touch  and  taste, 
As  seems  it  should  endure,  by  right,  for  aye, 
And  never  be  with  any  storm  defaced; 

But  when  the  baleful  southern  wind  doth  blow, 
Gone  is  the  glory  which  it  erst  did  show. 

Love  is  the  stream  whose  waves  so  calmly  flow, 
As  might  entice  men's  minds  to  wade  therein; 
Love  is  the  poison  mix'd  with  sugar  so, 
As  might  by  outward  sweetness  liking  win; 
But  as  the  deep'  o'erflowing  stops  thy  breath, 
So  poison  once  received  brings  certain  death. 

Love  is  the  bait  whose  taste  the  fish  deceives, 
And  makes  them  swallow  down  the  choking  hook; 
Love  is  the  face  whose  fairness  judgement  reaves, 
And  makes  thee  trust  a  false  and  feigned  look; 
But  as  the  hook  the  foolish  fish  doth  kill, 
So  flattering  looks  the  lover's  life  doth  spill. 

Jgnoto  in  England's  Helicon,   1614,  Prefatory  Table. 
Signed  "A  W. "  in  Davisoris  Poetical  Rhapsody,   1602. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  313 


THE  PASSIONATE  SHEPHERD 
TO  HIS  LOVE. 

Come  live  with  me,  and  be  my  dear, 
And  we  will  revel  all  the  year, 
In  plains  and  groves,  on  hills  and  dales, 
Where  fragrant  air  breeds  sweetest  gales. 

There  shall  you  have  the  beautious  pine, 
The  cedar,  and  the  spreading  vine; 
And  all  the  woods  to  be  a  screen, 
Lest  Phoebus  kiss  my  summer's  queen. 

The  seat  of  your  disport  shall  be 
Over  some  river  in  a  tree, 
Where  silver  sands  and  pebbles  sing, 
Eternal  ditties  with  the  spring. 

There  shall  you  see  the  nymphs  at  play, 
And  how  the  satyrs  spend  the  day; 
The  fishes  gliding  on  the  sands, 
Offering  their  bellies  to  your  hands. 

The  birds,  with  their  heavenly-tuned  throats, 
Possess  woods'  echoes  with  sweet  notes, 
Which  to  your  senses  will  impart 
A  music  to  inflame  the  heart. 

Upon  the  bare  and  leafless  oak, 
The  ring  doves'  wooings  will  provoke 
A  colder  blood  than  you  possess, 
To  play  with  me  and  do  no  less. 


314  Shake-speare  England 's    Ulysses, 

In  bowers  of  laurel,  trimly  dight, 
We  will  outwear  the  silent  night; 
While  Flora  busie  is  to  spread 
Her  richest  treasure  on  our  bed. 

Ten  thousand  Glowworms  shall  attend, 
And  all  their  sparkling  lights  shall  spend, 
All  to  adorn  and  beautify 
Your  lodging  with  most  majesty. 

Then  in  mine  arms  will  I  enclose, 
Lily's  fair  mixture  with  the  rose, 
Whose  nice  perfections  in  love's  play 
Shall  tune  me  to  the  highest  key. 

Thus  as  we  pass  the  welcom  e  night 
In  sportful  pleasures  and  delight; 
The  nimble  fairies  on  the  grounds 
Shall  dance  and  sing  melodious  sounds. 

If  these  may  serve  for  to  entice 
Your  presence  to  Love's  paradise, 
Then  come  with  me  and  be  my  dear, 
And  we  will  straight  begin  the  year. 

Ignoto  in  England's  Helicon,   1600 

[Bullen,  Ed.,  p. 232] 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  3 1 5 


THE  NYMPH'S  REPLY. 

If  that  the  world  and  love  were  young, 
And  truth  in  every  shepherd's  tongue, 
These  pretty  pleasures  might  me  move 
To  live  with  thee  and  be  thy  love. 

But  time  drives  flocks  from  field  to  fold, 
When  rivers  rage,  and  rocks  growr  cold; 
And  Philomel  becometh  dumb; 
The  rest  complain  of  cares  to  come. 

The  flowers  do  fade,  and  wanton  fields 
To  wayward  Winter  reckoning  yields; 
A  honey  tongue,    a  heart  of  gall, 
Is  fancy's  spring,  but  sorrow's  fall. 

Thy  gowns,  thy  shoes,  thy  beds  of  roses, 
Thy  cap,  thy  kirtle,  and  thy  posies, 
Soon  break,  soon  wither,  soon  forgotten; 
In  folly  ripe,  in  reason  rotten. 

Thy  belt  of  straw  and  ivy  buds, 
Thy  coral  clasps  and  amber  studs, 
All  these  in  me  no  means  can  move, 
To  come  to  thee  and  be  thy  love. 

But  could  youth  last  and  love  still  breed, 
Had  joy  no  date,  had  age  no  need, 
Then  these  delights  my  mind  might  move, 
To  live  with  thee  and  be  thy  love. 
Ignoto  in  England's  Helicon,   1600  [Bullen,  p.  231] 


316  Shake-speare  England's    Ulysses, 


AN  INVECTIVE  AGAINST  WOMEN. 

Are  women  fair?  Aye,  wond'rous  fair  to  see  to; 
Are  women  sweet?  Yea,  passing  sweet  they  be  too: 
Most  fair  and  sweet  to  them  that  inly  love  them; 
Chaste  and  discreet  to  all,  save  those  that  prove  them. 

Are  women  wise?  Not  wise,  but  they  be  witty: 
Are  women  witty?  Yea,  the  more  the  pity: 
They  are  so  witty,  and  in  wit  so  wily, 
That  be  ye  ne'er  so  wise,  they  will  beguile  ye. 

Are  women  fools?  Not  fools,  but  fondlings  many. 
Can  women  fond  be  faithful  unto  any  ? 
When  snow-white  swans  do  turn  to  color  sable. 
Then  women  fond  will  be  both  firm  and  stable. 

Are  women  saints  ?  No  saints,  nor  yet  no  devils. 
Are  women  good?  Not  good,  but  needful  evils; 
So  angel-like,  that  devils  I  do  not  doubt  them; 
So  needful  ills,  that  few  can  live  without  them. 

Are  women  proud  ?  Aye,  passing  proud,  and  praise  them 
Are  women  kind?  Aye,  wond'rous  kind,  and  please  them 
Or  so  imperious,  no  man  can  endure  them ; 
Or  so  kind-hearted,  any  may  procure  them. 

Ignoto  in  Davisons  Poetical  Rhapsody,   1602    \_ATic- 
olas,  Ed.,   1826,  p.  289]. 


Poems  Bearing  on  tJie  Authorship.  317 


TRUE-LOVE'S  KNOT. 

Love  is  the  link,  the  knot,  the  band  of  unity; 
And  all  that  love,  do  love  with  their  belov'd  to  be. 

Love  only  did  decree, 

To  change  his  kind  in  me. 

For  though  I  lov'd  with  all  the  powers  of  my  mind, 
And  though  my  restless  thoughts  their  rest  in  her  did 
find, 

Yet  are  my  hopes  declin'd, 

Sith  she  is  most  unkind. 

For  since  her  beauty's  sun  my  fruitless  hope  did  breed, 
By  absence  from  that  sun,  I  hop'd  to  starve  that  weed; 

Though  absence  did  indeed 

My  hopes  not  starve,  but  feed. 

For  when  I  shift  my  place,  like  to  the  stricken  deer, 
I  cannot  shift  the  shaft,  which  in  my  side  I  bear: 

By  me  it  resteth  there, 

The  cause  is  not  elsewhere. 
So  have  I  seen  the  sick  to  run  and  turn  again, 
As  if  that  outward  change  could  ease  his  inward  pain: 

But  still,  alas!  in  vain, 

The  fit  doth  still  remain. 

Yet  goodness  is  the  spring  from  whence  this  ill  doth  grow, 
For  goodness  caus'd  the  love,  which  great  respect  did 
owe. 

Respect  true  love  did  show: 

True  love  thus  wrought  my  woe. 

Ignoto  in  Davisoris  Poetical  Rhapsody  ^  1602  [Nicolas 
Ed.,   1826,  p.  284]. 


318  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


THE  UNKNOWN  SHEPHERD'S  COMPLAINT. 

My  flocks  feed  not,  my  ewes  breed  not, 
My  rams  speed  not,  all  is  amiss: 
Love  is  denying;  Faith  is  defying; 
Heart's  renying,  causer  of  this. 
All  my  merry  jigs  are  quite  forgot, 
All  my  lady's  love  is  lost,  God  wot; 
Were  her  faith  was  firmly  fix'd  in  love, 
There  a  nay  is  placed  without  remove. 

One  silly  cross  wrought  all  my  loss; 

O  frowning  fortune,  cursed  fickle  dame! 

For  now  I  see  inconstancy 

More  in  women  than  in  men  remain. 

In  black  mourn  1,  all  fears  scorn  I, 
Love  hath  forlorn  me,  living  in  thrall; 
Heart  is  bleeding,  all  help  needing, 
O  cruel  speeding,  fraughted  with  gall. 
M}^  shepherd's  pipe  can  sound  no  deal, 
My  wether's  bell  rings  doleful  knell. 
My  curtail  dog  that  wont  to  have  play'd, 
Plays  not  at  all,  but  seems  afraid; 

With  sighs  so  deep,  procures  to  weep, 

In  howling-wise  to  see  my  doleful  plight. 

How  sighs  resound,  through  heartless  ground, 

Like  a  thousand  vanquished  men  in  bloody  fight. 

Clear  wells  spring  not,  sweet  birds  sing  not, 
Green  plants  bring  not  forth  their  dye; 
Herds  stand  weeping,  flocks  all  sleeping, 
Nymphs  back  peeping  fearfully. 
All  our  pleasure  known  to  us  poor  swains, 
All  our  merry  meeting  on  the  plains, 
All  our  evening  sports  from  us  are  fled, 
All  our  love  is  lost,  for  Love  is  dead. 

Farewell,  sweet  Love,  thy  like  ne'er  was, 

For  sweet  content,  the  cause  of  all  my  moan: 

Poor  Corydon  must  live  alone; 

Other  help  for  him,  I  see  that  there  is  none. 

Ignoto  in  England's  Helicon,  1600. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  319 


THE  LOVER  AND  HIS  LADY. 

Lady,  my  flame  still  burning, 

And  my  consuming  anguish, 
Doth  grow  so  great,  that  life  I  feel  to  languish: 

Then  let  your  heart  be  moved, 
To  end  my  grief  and  yours,  so  long  time  proved; 
And  quench  the  heat  that  my  chief  part  so  fireth, 
Yielding  the  fruit  that  faithful  love  requireth. 

HER  ANSWER. 

Sweet  Lord,  your  flame  still  burning, 

And  your  consuming  anguish, 
Cannot  be  more  than  mine,  in  which  I  languish; 

Nor  more  your  heart  is  moved. 
To  end  your  grief  and  mine,  so  long  time  proved: 
But  if  I  yield,  and  so  your  love  decreaseth, 
Then  I  my  lover  lose,  and  your  love  ceaseth. ! 

Ignoto  in  Davisons  Poetical  Rhapsody. 

AN  UNREPENTANT  LOVER. 

To  plead  my  faith,  where  faith  hath  no  reward, 

To  move  remorse  where  favor  is  not  born: 

To  heap  complaints  where  she  doth  not  regard, 

Were  fruitless,  bootless,  vain  and  yield  but  scorn. 

I  loved  her  whom  all  the  world  admired, 

I  was  refused  of  her  that  can  love  none: 

And  my  vain  hope  which  far  too  high  aspired 

Is  dead  and  buried  and  for  ever  gone. 

Forget  my  name  since  you  have  scorned  my  love, 
And  womanlike  do  not  too  late  lament: 
Since  for  your  sake  I  do  all  mischief  prove, 
I  none  accuse  nor  nothing  do  repent. 

I  was  as  fond  as  ever  she  was  fair 

Yet  lov'd  I  not  more  than  I  now  despair. 

Poems  of  Essex, 

1  Cp.  note  2,  p.  37  and  all  of  p.  39. 


320  Shake-speare  England ' s  Ulysses, 


SOCKLESS  SHAKE-SPEARE. 

There  is  none,  oh !  none  but  you, 
Who  from  me  estrange  the  sight, 
Whom  mine  eyes  affect  to  view, 
And  chain'd  ears  hear  with  delight. 


'.-V 


Other's  beauties  others  move; 

In  you  I  all  the  graces  find; 

Such  are  the  effects  of  love, 

To  make  them  happy  that  are  kind. 

Women  in  frail  beauty  trust; 
Only  seem  you  kind  to  me! 
Still  be  truly  kind  and  just, 
For  that  can't  dissembled  be. 

Dear,  afford  me  then  your  sight, 
That  surveying  all  your  looks, 
Endless  volumes  I  may  write, 
And  fill  the  world  with  envied  books. 

Which,  when  after  ages  view, 
All  shall  wonder  and  despair, 
Women,  to  find  a  man  so  true. 
And  men,  a  woman,  half  so  fair. 

Poems  of  Essex, 

J  Cp.  note  from  Saintsbury,  p.  41. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  321 


A  NYMPH'S  DISDAIN  OF  LOVE. 

"Hey,  down,  a  down!"  did  Dian  sing, 

Amongst  her  virgins  sitting; 
1  'Than  love  there  is  no  vainer  thing, 

For  maidens  most  unfitting." 
And  so  think  I,  with  a  down,  down,  derry. 

When  women  knew  no  woe, 

But  lived  themselves  to  please, 
Men's  feigning  guiles  they  did  not  know, 

The  ground  of  their  disease. 
Unborn  was  false  suspect, 

No  thought  of  jealousy; 
From  wanton  toys  and  fond  affect, 

The  virgin's  life  was  free. 
"Hey,  down,  a  down!"  did  Dian  sing,  &c. 

At  length  men  used  charms, 

To  which  what  maids  gave  ear, 
Embracing  gladly  endless  harms, 

Anon  enthralled  were. 
Thus  women  welcomed  woe, 

Disguised  in  name  of  love, 
A  jealous  hell,  a  painted  show: 

So  shall  they  find  that  prove. 
"Hey,  down,  a  down!"  did  Dian  sing, 

Amongst  her  virgins  sitting; 
;  'Than  love  there  is  no  vainer  thing, 

For  maidens  most  unfitting." 
And  so  think  I,  with  a  down,  down,  derry. 
Ignoto  in  England's  Helicon,  1600  [Bullen  Ed.,  p.  152] 

21 


322 


Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  DESCRIPTION 
OF  LOVE. 

Meliboeiis.      Shepherd,  what's  Love,  I  pray  thee  tell? 
Faiistus.        It  is  that  fountain  and  that  well, 

Where  pleasure  and  repentance  dwell; 
It  is  perhaps  that  sauncing  bell, 
That  tolls  all  to  heaven  or  hell: 
And  this  is  love,  as  I  heard  tell. 
Meli.     Yet  what  is  Love,  I  prithee  say? 
Faus.      It  is  a  work  on  holiday, 

It  is  December  match'd  with  May, 
When  lusty  bloods  in  fresh  array 
Hear  ten  months  after  of  the  play: 
And  this  is  Love  as  I  hear  say. 
Meli.      Yet  what  is  Love,  goo'd  shepherd,  sain  ? 
Faust.      It  is  a  sunshine  mix'd  with  rain, 
It  is  a  tooth-ache,  or  like  pain, 
It  is  a  game,  where  none  doth  gain; 
The  lass  saith  no,  and  would  full  fain: 
And  this  is  Love,  as  I  hear  sain. 
Meli.     Yet  shepherd,  what  is  Love,  I  pray  ? 
Faust.      It  is  a  yea,  it  is  a  nay, 

A  pretty  kind  of  sporting  fray, 
It  is  a  thing  will  soon  away,  [may: 

Then,    nymphs,   take  vantage  while  ye 
And  this  is  Love,  as  I  hear  say, 
Meli.     Yet  what  is  Love,  good  shepherd,  show  ? 
Faust.     A  thing  that  creeps,  it  cannot  go, 
A  prize  that  passeth  to  and  fro, 
A  thing  for  one,  a  thing  for  moe, 
And  he  that  proves  shall  find  it  so: 
And,  shepherd,  this  is  Love,  I  trow. 
Ignoto  in  England's  Helicon,  Biillen,  p.   106, 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  323 


THE  SHEPHERD  TO  THE  FLOWERS. 

Sweet  violets,  Love's  paradise,  that  spread 
Your  gracious  odours,  which  you  couched  bear 

Within  your  paly  faces, 

Upon  the  gentle  wing  of  some  calm  breathing  wind, 
That  plays  amidst  the  plain, 
If  by  the  favour  of  propitious  stars  you  gain 
Such  grace  as  in  my  lady's  bosom  place  to  find, 

Be  proud  to  touch  those  places, 

And  when  her  warmth  your  moisture  forth  doth  wear, 
Whereby  her  dainty  parts  are  sweetly  fed, 
Your  honours  of  the  flowery  meads  I  pray, 
You  pretty  daughters  of  the  earth  and  sun, 
With  mild  and  seemly  breathing  straight  display 
My  bitter  sighs,  that  have  my  heart  undone, 

Vermilion  roses,  that  with  new  day's  rise 
Display  your  crimson  folds  fresh-looking,  fair, 

Whose  radiant  bright  disgraces 
The  rich  adorned  rays  of  roseate  rising  morn. 

Ah!  if  her  virgin's  hand 

Do  pluck  your  pure,  ere  Phoebus  view  the  land, 
And  veil  your  gracious  pomp  in  lovely  Nature's  scorn; 

If  chance  my  mistress  traces 
Fast  by  your  flowers  to  take  the  Summer's  air, 
Then,  woeful  blushing,  tempt  her  glorious  eyes, 

To  spread  their  tears,  Adonis'  death  reporting, 
And  tell  Love's  torments,  sorrowing  for  her  friend, 

Whose  drops  of  blood  within  your  leaves  consorting, 

Report  fair  Venus'  moans  to  have  no  end, 
Then  may  remorse,  in  pitying  of  my  smart, 

Dry  up  my  tears,  and  dwell  within  her  heart. 

Ignoto  in  England's  Hekicon,  Bullen,  p.   178, 


324  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


LOVE'S  SORROWS. 

Since  thou  art  dead,  lo,  here  I  prophesy: 

Sorrow  on  love  hereafter  shall  attend: 

It  shall  be  waited  on  with  jealousy, 

Find  sweet  beginning,  but  unsavory  end; 
Ne'er  settled  equally,  but  high  or  low, 
That  all  love's  pleasure  shall  not  match  his  woe. 

It  shall  be  fickle,  false  and  full  of  fraud, 
Bud  and  be  blasted,  in  a  breathing-while; 
The  bottom  poison,  and  the  top  o'erstraw'd 
With  sweets  that  shall  the  truest  sight  beguile: 
The  strongest  body  shall  it  make  most  weak, 
Strike  the  wise  dumb,  and  teach  the  fool  to  speak. 

It  shall  be  sparing  and  too  full  of  riot, 
Teaching  decrepit  age  to  tread  the  measures; 
The  staring  ruffian  shall  it  keep  in  quiet, 
Pluck  down  the  rich,  enrich  the  poor  with  treasures; 
It  shall  be  raging-mad  and  silly  mild, 
Make  the  young  old,  the  old  become  a  child. 

It  shall  suspect  where  is  no  cause  of  fear; 

It  shall  not  fear  where  it  should  most  mistrust; 

It  shall  be  merciful  and  too  severe, 

And  most  deceiving  when  it  seems  most  just; 

Perverse  it  shall  be  where  it  shows  most  toward, 
Put  fear  to  valour,  courage  to  the  coward. 

It  shall  be  cause  of  war  and  dire  events, 

And  set  dissension  'twixt  the  son  and  sire; 

Subject  and  servile  to  all  discontents, 

As  dry  combustious  matter  is  to  fire: 

Sith  in  his  prime  Death  doth  my  love  destroy, 
They  that  love  best  their  loves  shall  not  enjoy. 

Venus  and  Adonis. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  325 


LOVE  THE  ONLY  PRICE  OF  LOVE. 

The  fairest  pearls  that  northern  seas  do  breed, 

For  precious  stones  from  eastern  coasts  are  sold; 

Nought  yields  the  earth  that  from  exchange  is  freed. 

Gold  values  all,  and  all  things  value  gold; 

Where  goodness  wants  an  equal  change  to  make, 
There  greatness  serves,  or  number  place  doth  take, 

No  mortal  thing  can  bear  so  high  a  price, 
But  that  with  mortal  thing  it  may  be  bought; 
The  corn  of  Sicil  buys  the  western  spice; 
French  wine  of  us,  of  them  our  cloth  is  sought. 

No  pearls,  no  gold,  no  stones,  no  corn,  no  spice, 

No  cloth,  no  wine,  of  love  can  pay  the  price, 

What  thing  is  love,  which  nought  can  countervail? 

Nought  save  itself,  ev'n  such  a  thing  is  love. 

All  worldly  wealth  in  worth  as  far  doth  fail, 

As  lowest  earth  doth  yield  to  heaven  above. 
Divine  is  love,  and  scorneth  worldly  pelf, 
And  can  be  bought  with  nothing,  but  with  self. 

Such  is  the  price  my  loving  heart  would  pay; 
Such  is  the  pay  trw  love  doth  claim  as  due. 
Thy  due  is  love,  which  I,  poor  I,  essay, 
In  vain  essay  to  quite  with  friendship  true. 

True  is  my  love,  and  true  shall  ever  be, 

And  truest  love  is  far  too  base  for  thee. 

Love  but  thyself,  and  love  thyself  alone, 
For,  save  thyself,  none  can  thy  love  requite; 
All  mine  thou  hast,  but  all  as  good  as  none, 
My  small  desert  must  take  a  lower  flight. 

Yet  if  thou  wilt  vouchsafe  my  heart  such  bliss, 

Accept  it  for  thy  prisoner  as  it  is. 

Ignoto  in  England's  Helicon  [Bullen  Ed.,  p.  250]. 


326  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


ECLOGUE. 

Shepherd.  .          Pier  dm  an. 

Shepherd. 

Come,  gentle  herdman,  sit  by  me, 

And  tune  thy  pipe  by  mine, 
Here  underneath  this  willow  tree, 

To  shield  the  hot  sunshine; 
Where  I  have  made  my  summer  bower, 

For  proof  of  summer  beams; 
And  deck'd  it  up  with  many  a  flower, 

Sweet  seated  by  the  streams; 
Where  gentle  Daphne  once  a  day 

These  flow'ry  banks  doth  walk, 
And  in  her  bosom  bears  away 

The  pride  of  many  a  stalk; 
But  leaves  the  humble  heart  behind, 

That  should  her  garland  dight; 
And  she,  sweet  soul!  the  more  unkind 

To  set  true  loves  so  light: 
But  whereas  others  bear  the  bell, 

As  in  her  favour  blest, 
Her  shepherd  loveth  her  as  well 

As  those  whom  she  loves  best. 

Her  dm  an. 
Alas,  poor  pastor!  I  find 

Thy  love  is  lodg'd  so  high, 
That  on  thy  flock  thou  hast  no  mind, 

But  feed'st  a  wanton  eye. 
If  dainty  Daphne's  looks  besot 

Thy  doating  heart's  desire, 
Be  sure,  that  far  above  thy  lot 

Thy  liking  doth  aspire. 
To  love  so  sweet  a  nymph  as  she, 

And  look  for  love  again, 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  327 

Is  fortune  fitting  high  degree, 

Not  for  a  shepherd's  swain. 
For  she  of  lordly  lads  becoy'd, 

And  sought  of  great  estates; 
Her  favour  scorns  to  be  enjoy'd 

By  us  poor  lowly  mates. 
Wherefore  I  warn  thee  to  be  wise; 

Go  with  me  to  my  walk, 
Where  lowly  lasses  be  not  nice; 

There  like  and  choose  thy  make: 
W'here  are  no  pearls  or  gold  to  view, 

No  pride  of  silken  sight, 
But  petticoats  of  scarlet  hue, 

Which  veil  the  skin  snow-white. 
There  truest  lasses  be  to  get 

For  love  and  little  cost: 
There  sweet  desire  is  paid  his  debt, 

And  labour  seldom  lost. 

Shepherd. 
No,  herdman,  no!  thou  rav'st  too  loud, 

Our  trade  so  vile  to  hold; 
My  weed  as  great  a  heart  doth  shroud, 

As  his  that's  clad  in  gold. 
And  take  the  truth  that  I  thee  tell, 

This  song  fair  Daphne  sings, 
That  Cupid  will  be  served  as  well 

Of  shepherds  as  of  kings. 
For  proof  whereof,  old  books  record 

That  Venus,  queen  of  love, 
Would  set  aside  her  warlike  lord, 

And  youthful  pastor's  prove; 
How  Paris  was  as  well  beloved 

As  simple  shepherd's  boy, 
As  after  when  that  he  was  proved 

King  Priam's  son  of  Troy. 
And  therefore  have  I  better  hope, 


328  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

As  had  those  lads  of  yore: 
My  courage  takes  as  large  a  scope, 

Although  their  haps  were  more. 
And  that  thou  shalt  not  deem  I  jest, 

And  bear  a  mind  more  base, 
No  meaner  hope  shall  haunt  my  breast 

Than  dearest  Daphne's  grace. 
My  mind  no  other  thought  retains; 

Mine  eye  nought  else  admires; 
My  heart  no  other  passion  strains, 

Nor  other  hap  desires. 
My  muse  of  nothing  else  entreats, 

My  pipe  nought  else  doth  sound, 
My  veins  no  other  fever  heats, 

Such  faith's  in  shepherds  found. 

Herdman. 
Ah!  shepherd,  then  I  see,  with  grief, 

Thy  care  is  past  all  cure; 
No  remedy  for  thy  relief, 

But  patiently  endure. 
Thy  wonted  liberty  is  fled, 

Fond  fancy  breeds  thy  bane, 
Thy  sense  of  folly  brought  abed, 

Thy  wit  is  in  the  wane. 
I  can  but  sorrow  for  thy  sake, 

Since  love  lulls  thee  asleep; 
And  whilst  out  of  thy  dream  thou  wake, 

God  shield  thy  straying  sheep! 
Thy  wretched  flock  may  rue  and  curse 

This  proud  desire  of  thine, 
Whose  woeful  state  from  bad  to  worse 

Thy  careless  eye  will  pine. 
And  even  as  they,  thyself  likewise 

With  them  shall  wear  and  waste 
To  see  the  spring  before  thine  eyes, 

Thou  thirsty  canst  not  taste.  ^ 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  329 

Content  thee,  therefore,  with  conceit, 

Where  others  gain  the  grace; 
And  think  thy  fortune  at  the  height, 

To  see  but  Daphne's  face. 
Although  thy  truth  deserved  well 

Reward  above  the  rest, 
Thy  haps  shall  be  but  means  to  tell 

How  other  men  are  blest. 
So,  gentle  shepherd,  farewell  now! 

Be  warned  by  my  reed; 
For  I  see  written  in  thy  brow, 
Thy  heart  for  love  doth  bleed. 
Yet  longer  with  thee  would  I  stay, 

If  aught  would  do  thee  good: 
But  nothing  can  the  heat  allay, 
Where  love  inflames  the  blood. 

Shepherd. 
Then,  herdman,  since  it  is  my  lot, 

And  my  good  liking  such, 
Strive  not  to  break  the  faithful  knot 

That  thinks  no  pain  too  much: 
For  what  contents  my  Daphne  best 

I  never  will  despise, 
So  she  but  wish  my  soul  good  rest 

When  death  shall  close  mine  eyes. 
Then,  herdman,  farewell  once  again, 

For  now  the  day  is  fled: 
So  might  thy  cares,  poor  shepherd's  swain, 

Fly  from  thy  careful  head. 
Ignoto  in  Davison  s  Poetical  Rhapsody1  [Nichols  Ed., 

p.  78]. 

1  Francis  Davison,  son  of  the  famous  Secretary  of  state,  published  a  poetical 
miscellany  in  1602,  under  the  title  of  Davison s  Poems,  or  a  Poetical  Rhapsody, 
containing  small  pieces  by  the  author  himself,  by  his  brother  Walter,  by  a  friend 
whom  he  calls  Anomos,  by  Sir  John  Davis,  the  Countess  of  Pembroke,  Sir  P. 
Sidney  etc.  A  second  edition  appeared  in  1608,  a  third  in  1611,  and  a  fourth 
in  1621.—  Ellis,  Vol.  III.  p.  n. 


330  Shake-speare  England *s    Ulysses, 


DISPRAISE  OF  LOVE  AND  LOVERS' 
FOLLIES. 

If  love  be  life,  I  long  to  die, 

Live  they  that  list  for  me; 
And  he  that  gains  the  most  thereby, 

A  fool  at  least  shall  be; 
But  he  that  feels  the  sorest  fits, 
'Scapes  with  no  less  than  loss  of  wits. 

Unhappy  life  they  gain 

Which  love  do  entertain. 

In  day  by  feigned  looks  they  live, 

By  lying  dreams  in  night. 
Each  frown  a  deadly  wound  doth  give, 

Each  smile  a  false  delight. 
If  't  hap  their  lady  pleasant  seem, 
It  is  for  other's  love  they  deem; 

If  void  she  seem  of  joy, 

Disdaine  doth  make  her  cov. 

Such  is  the  peace  that  lovers  find. 

Such  is  the  life  they  lead, 
Blown  here  and  there  with  every  wind, 

Like  flowers  in  the  mead; 
Now  war,  now  peace,  now  war  again, 
Desire,  despair,  delight,  disdain; 

Though  dead,  in  midst  of  life; 

In  peace,  and  yet  at  strife. 

Ignoto  in  England's  Helicon,  Bullen,  p.  226. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  331 


A  DEFIANCE  TO  DISDAINFUL  LOVE. 

Now  have  I  learn'd  with  much  ado  at  last 

By  true  disdain  to  kill  desire; 

This  was  the  mark  at  which  I  shot  so  fast, 

Unto  this  height  I  did  aspire. 
Proud  Love,  now  do  thy  worst  and  spare  not, 
For  thee  and  all  thy  shafts  I  care  not. 

What  hast  thou  left  wherewith  to  move  my  mind? 

What  life  to  quicken  dead  desire  ? 
I  count  thy  words  and  oaths  as  light  as  wind, 

I  feel  no  heat  in  all  thy  fire. 
Go  change  thy  bow,  and  get  a  stronger; 
Go  break  thy  shafts,  and  buy  thee  longer. 

In  vain  thou  bait'st  thy  hook  with  beauty's  blaze, 

In  vain  thy  wanton  eyes  allure; 
These  are  but  toys  for  them  that  love  to  gaze, 

I  know  what  harm  thy  looks  procure. 
Some  strange  conceit  must  be  devised, 
Or  thou  and  all  thy  skill  despised. 

Ignoto1  in  England's  Helicon  [Bullen  Ed.,  p.  254] 


1  For  Ignoto's  lovable  or  companionable  qualities  with  his  fellow  poets,  see 
the  poem,  p.  140.  These  Verses  to  the  conceit  of  The  Faery  Queen  I  con- 
sider a  most  valuable  touch  of  the  man  Shake-speare.  It  shows  him  in  the  char- 
acter of  "Homerus,  the  Joiner,"  which  he  undoubtedly  was  in  more  ways  than 
one.  It  has  always  been  a  pet  theory  of  mine  that  there  would  have  been  no 
Elizabethan  era  in  our  literature  had  not  Shake-speare  been  heir  to  the  crown 
-"the  one  preeminent  man"  set  the  fashion,  this  is  borne  out  by  the  Players 
clam-like  retirement  at  Stratford  and  the  fact  that  not  a  line  can  be  shown  from 
his  pen  subsequent  to  the  death  of  Essex. 


332  Shake-speare  England's    Ulysses, 


PHYLLIDA'S  LOVE-CALUTO  HER 
CORYDON,  AND  HIS  REPLYING. 

Phyl.      Cory  don,  arise,  my  Cory  don! 

Titan  shineth  clear. 
Cor.       Who  is  it  that  calleth  Corydon  ? 

Who  is  it  that  I  hear? 
Phyl.      Phyllida,  my  true  love,  calleth  thee, 

Arise  then,  arise- then, 

Arise  and  keep  thy  flock  with  me! 
Cor.       Phyllida,  my  true  love,  is  it  she  ? 

I  come  then,  I  come  then, 

I  come  and  keep  my  flock  with  thee. 

Phyl.     Here  are  cherries  ripe  for  my  Corydon; 

Eat  them  for  my  sake. 
Cor.        Here  's  my  oaten  pipe,  my  lovely  one, 

Sport  for  thee  to  make. 

Phyl.     Here  are  threads,  my  true  love,  fine  as  silk, 
To  knit  thee,  to  knit  thee, 

A  pair  of  stockings  white  as  milk. 
Cor.     Here  are  reeds,  my  true  love,  fine  and  neat, 
To  make  thee,  to  make  thee, 
A  bonnet  to  withstand  the  heat. 

Phyl.      I  will  gather  flowers,  my  Corydon, 

To  set  in  thy  cap, 
Cor.        I  will  gather  pears,  my  lovely  one, 

To  put  in  thy  lap. 

Phyl.        I  will  buy  my  true  love  garters  gay, 
For  Sundays,  for  Sundays, 

To  wear  about  his  legs  so  tall. 
Cor.        I  will  buy  my  true  love  yellow  say, 
For  Sundays,  for  Sundays, 

To  wear  about  her  middle  small. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  333 

Phyl.      When  my  Gprydon  sits  on  a  hill 

Making  melody— 
Cor.        When  my  lovely  one  goes  to  her  wheel, 

Singing  cheerily— 
Phyl.      Sure  methinks  my  true  love  doth  excel 

For  sweetness,  for  sweetness, 

Our  Pan,  that  old  Arcadian  knight. 
Cor.        And  methinks  my  true  love  bears  the  bell 

For  clearness,  for  clearness, 

Beyond  the  nymphs  that  be  so  bright. 

Phyl.      Had  my  Cory  don,  my  Cory  don, 

Been,  alack!  her  swain — 
Cor.        Had  my  lovely  one,  my  lovely  one, 

Been  in  Ida  plain— 
Phyl.      Cynthia  Endymion  had  refused, 

Preferring,  preferring, 

My  Corydon  to  play  withal. 
Cor.        The  queen  of  love  had  been  excused 

Bequeathing,  bequeathing, 
My  Phyllida  the  golden  ball. 

Phyl.     Yonder  comes  my  mother,  Corvdon, 

Whither  shall  I  fly? 
Cor.       Under  yonder  beech,  my  lovely  one, 

While  she  passeth  by. 
Phyl.      Say  to  her  thy  true  love  was  not  here ; 

Remember,  remember, 

To-morrow  is  another  day. 
Cor.       Doubt  me  not,  my  true  love,  do  not  fear; 

Farewell  then;  farewell  then 
Heaven  keep  ouc  loves  alway. 

Iguoto  in  England 's  Helicon,  Bulln,  p.   90. 


334  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


THE  FALSE  FORGOTTEN. 

Change  thy  mind  since  she  doth  change, 
Let  not  fancy  still  abuse  thee: 
Thy  untruth  can  not  seem  strange 
When  her  falsehood  doth  excuse  ye. 
Love  is  dead  and  thou  art  free, 
She  doth  live  but  dead  to  thee. 

When  she  loved  thee  best  a  while, 

See  how  still  she  did  delay  thee; 

Using  shows  for  to  beguile, 

Those  vain  hopes  which  have  betrayed  ye. 
Now  thou  seest  but  all  too  late, 
Love  loves  truth,  which  women  hate. 

Love  farewell,  more  dear  to  me, 
Than  my  life  which  thou  preservest. 
Life,  thy  joy  is  gone  from  thee, 
Others  have  what  thou  deservest: 

They  enjoy  what  's  not  their  own 

Happier  life  to  live  alone. 

Yet  thus  much  to  ease  my  mind, 
Let  her  know  what  she  hath  gotten: 
She  who  time  hath  proved  unkind, 
Having  changed  is  quite  forgotten. 
For  time  now  hath  done  her  worst, 
Would  she  had  done  so  at  first. 

Love  no  more  since  she  is  gone, 
She  is  gone,  and  loves  another: 
Being  once  deceived  bv  one, 
Leave  to  love  and  love  no  other. 

She  was  false,  bid  her  adieu, 

She  was  best  but  yet  untrue. 

Poems  of  Essex. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  335 

THE  BUZZING  BEES  COMPLAINT 

— OR— 

THE  HONEY-TONGUED  SHAKE-SPEARE.1 

There  was  a  time  when  silly  bees  could  speak, 
And  in  that  time,  I  was  a  silly  bee, 
Who  suck'd  on  time,  until  my  heart  did  break, 
Yet  never  found  that  time  would  favor  me: 
Of  all  the  swarm  I  only  could  not  thrive, 
Yet  brought  I  wax  and  honey  to  the  hive. 

Then  thus  I  buzz'd  when  time  no  sap  would  give: 

Why  is  this  blessed  time  to  me  so  dry? 

Since  in  this  time  the  lazy  drone  doth  live, 

The  wasp,  the  worm,  the  gnat,  the  butterfly, 
Mated  with  grief  I  kneeled  on  my  knees, 
And  thus  complained  to  the  king  of  bees. 

God  grant  my  liege  thy  time  may  never  end, 
And  yet  vouchsafe  to  hear  my  plaint  of  time, 
When  every  fruitless  fly  hath  found  a  friend  I 
Am  I  cast  down,  whilst  attomies  do  clyme  ?    )  2 
The  king  replied  but  this;  "peace  peevish  bee, 
Th'  art  born  to  serve  the  time,  the  time  not  thee." 

"The  time  not  thee:"  the  words  dipt  short  my  wings, 

And  made  me  worm-like  stoop  that  once  did  fly: 

Awful  regard  disputeth  not  with  kings, 

Receives  repulse,  and  never  asketh  why: 

Then  from  the  time,  a  time  I  me  withdrewe,     ) 
To  suck  on  hen-bane,  hemlock,  nettles,  rewe.  f  3 


1  They  talk  of  the  honey-tongued  Shakespeare,  but  they  do  not  tell  us  who 
the  honey-tongued  Shakespeare  was.  —  The  Mystery  of  William  Shakespeare, 
Judge  Webb. 

2  The  player  Shakspere. 

3  Cp.  note  i,  p.  298. 


336  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

But  from  these  leaves  no  dram  of  sweet  I  drain, 
My  headstrong  fortune  did  my  wits  bewitch, 
The  juice  disperst  black  blood  in  every  vein,  | 
For  honey,  gall;  for  wax,  I  gathered  pitch;        | 

My  comb,  a  rift;  my  hive,  a  lease  must  be; 

So  chang'd,  the  bees  scarce  took  me  for  a  bee. 

I  work  in  weeds,  when  moon  is  in  the  wane, 

Whilst  all  the  swarm  in  sunshine  taste  the  rose; 

On  black-fern,  loe!  I  seek  and  suck  my  bane; 

Whilst  on  the  eglantine  the  rest  repose, 

Having  too  much,  they  still  repine  for  more, 
And  cloyed  with  sweetness,  surfeit  on  their  store. 

Swollen  fat  with  feasts,  full  merrily  they  pass, 

In  swarms  and  clusters  falling  on  a  tree, 

Where  finding  me  to  nibble  on  the  grass, 

Some  scorn,  some  muse  and  some  do  pity  me. 
And  some  me  envy,  and  whisper  to  the  king, 
''Some  must  be  still,  and  some  must  leave  no  sting." 

Are  bees  waxt  wasp's  and  spiders,  to  afflict  ?  ] 

Do  honey  bowels  make  the  spirits  gall? 

Is  this  the  juice  of  flowers,  to  stir  suspect? 

Is't  not  enough  to  tread  on  them  that  fall  ? 
What  sting  has  patience,  but  a  single  grief, 
That  stings  nought  but  itself,  without  relief. 


1  The  play  of  Hamlet.     Cp.  the  argument,  p.  21. 

"Seneca  Let  blood  line  by  line,  and  page  by  page,  at  length  must  die  to  our 
stage." — Nash  on  Hamlet.     Cp.  p.  208. 

2  "Phaeton  to  his  friend  Florio."     Cp.  p.  169. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Aiithorship.  337 

Sad  patience,  that  attendeth  at  the  door, 
And  teacheth  wise-men  thus  conclude  in  schools: 
Patience  I  am,  and  therefore  must  be  poor; 
Fortune  bestowes  her  riches  not  on  fools, 1 

'  'Great  king  of  bees !  that  righteth  every  wrong, 

Listen  to  patience  in  her  dying  song." 

I  cannot  feed  on  fennel,  like  some  flies, 

Nor  fly  to  every  flower  to  gather  gain; 

My  appetite  waits  on  my  Prince's  eyes, 

Contented  with  contempt,  and  pleased  with  pain; 
And  yet  I  still  expect  an  happy  hower, 
When  she  shall  say  "The  bee  may  suck  a  flower." 

Of  all  the  grief's  that  most  my  patience  grate, 
There's  one  that  fretteth  in  the  highest  degree, 
To  see  some  caterpillars  bred  of  late, 
Cropping  the  flowers  that  should  sustain  the  bee: 
Yet  smiled  I,  for  that  the  wisest  knows, 
Moths  eat  the  cloth,  cankers    consume  the  rose. 

Once  did  I  see  by  flying  in  the  field, 

Foul  beasts  to  browse  upon  the  lilies  fair; 

Virtue  nor  beauty  could  no  succor  yield, 

All's  provender  to  the  ass  but  the  air;1 

The  partial  world  of  thee  takes  little  heed, 

And  gives  them  flowers  that  should  on  thistles  feed. 

1  The  player  Shakspere. 


22 


338  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

Thus  only  I  must  drain  the  Egyptian  flowers, 
Finding  no  savor;  bitter  sap  they  have, 
And  seek  out  rotten  tombs,  the  dead  man's  bowers, 
And  light  on  Lotus  growing  by  the  grave, 

If  this  I  cannot  find,  ah!  hapless  bee, 

Witching  tobacco;  I  will  fly  to  thee! 

What  though  thou  dye  my  lungs  in  deepest  black, 

A  mourning  habit  suits  a  sable  heart: 

What  though  thy  fumes  sound  memories  do  crack, 

Forgetfulness  is  fittest  for  my  smart, 

O  virtuous  fume,  let  it  be  carved  on  oke, 

That  words,  hopes,  wits,  and  all  the  world  is  smoke. 

Five  years  twice  told,  with  promise  unperformed, * 
My  hope-stufl'd  head  was  cast  into  a  slumber; 
Sweet  dreams  of  gold;  on  dreams  I  then  presumed, 
And  'mongst  the  bees  thought  I  was  of  their  number, 
Waking,  I  found  hives,  but  hopes  had  made  me  vain, 
Yet  'twas  not  tobacco  that  stupified  my  brain. 

'Poems  of  Essex.  ~ 


1  The  Btizzing  Bees  Complaint  "is  said  to  have  been  written  during  his  first 
discontentment  and  absence  from  Court  in  July,  August  1598." — Lives  of  77u' 
Earls  of  Essex,  Devereux,  Vol.  II.,  p.  194. 

The  "promise,"  then,  was  made  in  the  Armada  year  15.88 — 

Let  the  world  take  note, 

You  are  the  most  immediate  to  our  throne. 
Hamlet,  i.    2,  1589. 

2  Like    the    play    of    Hamlet,  this    poem  is    alive  with  venom,  hence,  inten- 
sely dramatic;  had  our  critics  onlv  knozvn  that  it  was  Shake-speare  at  his  best, 
it  would,  long  since,  have  been  lauded  to  the  skies,  truly  "nothing  can  be  great 
except  through  the  general."     As  to  the   beauty  of   individual    lines,  Professor 
Saintsbury  is  committed  [in  a  measure]  to  the  first  quatrain  of  Sonnet  cxvi. 
[p.  129]  .     I  will  match  him  with  the  first  four  lines  of  the  Essex  Sonnet,  frontis- 
page  7,  then  the  entire  fourteen  liner,  p.  170,  has  the  true  Shake-spearian  ring, 
and  the  Phaeton  Sonnet,  p.  169,  is  not  bad. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship.  339 

The  victorie  of  English  Chastitie, ' 

Under  the  fained  name  of 
A  VISA.* 


FOr  beauties  Ball,  in 
Three  Nimphes  at  once,  did  once  contend, 
The  Princely  Shep/icard  of  the  Dale, 
By  judgement  did  the  quarrell  end: 
That  Paris  might  faire  Hellen  have, 
The  Golden  Price  to   Venus  gave. 

In  Sea-bred  soyle,  on  Tempe  downes, 
Whose  silver  spring,  from  Neptunes  Well, 
With  mirth  salutes  the  neighbour  townes, 
A  hot  Contention  lately  fell: 

Twice  two  sweet  Graces,  urge  the  strife, 
Of  two  which  was  the  Constant1  st  wife. 


Faire  Venus  vaunts  Penelops  fame 

From  Greece,  from  listes  of  Lavin  Land 

Proud  Juno  stoutly  doth  the  same, 

Whose  prayse  in  princely  wealth  doth  stand: 

They  both  condemne  Diana's  choyce, 

That  to  Aviso*  gave  her  voyce. 

Then 


1  Their  love  [The  Masque  and  The  Dramatis  Pcrsome  of  the  Masque]  was 
married  chastity.  Cp.  1.  9,  Threnos,  p.  259;  also  lines  from  Henry  VIII.,  p.  260. 

a  The  heading  is  copied  verbatim  from  Willobie* s  Avisa,  p.  149.  [The  Spen- 
ser Society  Reprint  of  the  1635  Edition.] 

3  Allegory  for  The  Masque  of  Love 's  Labor's  \Von.  Cp.  the  "fhcem'xbird," 
note  i,  p.  342  and  sub-note  i,  p.  40. 


340 


Shake-speare  England '  s  Ulysses, 


Then  came  the  pale  Athenian  Muse, 

Whose  learned  wisdome  past  them  all, 

She  with  Diana  did  refuse 

The  Grecians  prayse:  though  Juno  call, 
Chaste   Wit  to   Wealth  here  will  not  yeeld: 
Nor  yet  to  strangers  leave  the  field: 


Contention. 


A  noble  man 
of  Greece, 
not  farre 
from  Heli- 
con. 


Whil'st  Eris  flasht  these  fretting  flames, 

A  Noble  prince  in  Rosie  borne, 

Roger o  hight,  to  Angry  dames, 

His  flying  steed,  and  pace  did  turne, 
Which  done  they  all  did  straight  agree, 
That  this  Roger o,  Judge  should  be. 


On  flowrie  bancks,  this  Councell  pla'st, 
From  jealous  Juno's  envious  eyes, 
Long  smothered  hate  flames  forth  at  last, 
In  furious  smoakes  of  angry  cries: 
As  though  she  had  the  Garland  wan, 
With  scoffing  termes,  she  thus  began. 


The  Oration 
of  Juno  a- 
gainst  En- 
glish Chasti- 
ty under  the 
name  of 
A  vis  a. 


,,  Stoop  Grecian  trumpes,  cease  Romans  prayse, 

,,  Shut  up  with  shame,  your  famous  dames; 

,,  Sith  we  our  selves  Base  Hritans  rayse 

,,  To  over-Top  their  chiefest  fames: 

,,     With  Noble  faith  what  madnesse  dare 

,,     Such  Novell  guestes  and  faith  compare? 


,,  Penelope  must  now  contend 

,,  For  chaste  renowne:  whose  constant  heart. 

,,  Both  Greeks  and  Latines  all  commend 

,,  With  poore  Avis  a  new  upstart, 

,,      I  scorne  to  speake  much  in  this  case, 

,,     Her  prayses  Rivall  is  so  base. 


Pe- 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship. 


341 


Penelope  sprang  from  Noble  house, 
By  Noble  match,  twice  Noble  made, 
A  visa,  both  by  Syre  and  spouse, 
Was  linckt  to  men  of  meanest  trade:1 
What  furie  forc't  Diana's  wit, 
To  match  these  two  so  farre  unfit? 

The  Grecian  dame  of  princely  peeres 

Twice  fifty  flatly  did  denie: 

Twice  ten  yeeres  long  in  doubtfull  feares, 

Could  new  A  visa  so  reply? 

And  she  that  is  so  stout  and  strong, 
Could  she  have  staid  but  halfe  so  long? 

Fie,  leave  for  shame,  thus  to  commend, 
So  base  a  Britainc,  shall  I  speake? 
I  thinke  these  Muses  did  intend, 
To  blow  a  glasse  that  should  not  breake: 
Here  Venus  smilde,  and  Juno  staid, 
Judge  now  (quoth  she)  for  I  have  said. 

When  Pallas  heard  this  rufling  rage, 
These  toying  jestes,  this  false  surmise- 
Shee  paws'd  which  way  she  might  asswage, 
The  flame  that  thus  began  to  rise, 
With  setled  grace  and  modest  eye, 
Thus  did  shee  frame  her  milde  reply. 

Thou  princely  Judge  here  maist  thou  see, 
What  force  in  Error  doth  remaine, 
In  Envious  Pride  what  fruits  there  be, 
To  writhe  the  paths,  that  lie  so  plaine: 
A  double  darkness  drownes  tJie  mind, 
Whom  selfe  will  make  so  wilfull  blind. 


The  reply  of 
Pallas  a- 
gainst  funo 
in  defence 
of  A  vis  a. 


Can 


1  Cp.  note  i,  frontispage  2. 

2  Cp.  the  dualism's  of  the  exposition,  p.  28. 


342 


Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


Can  Britaine  breede  no  Phoenix  bird,1 
No  constant  feme  in  English  field? 
To  Greece  to  Rome,  is  there  no  third, 
Hath  Albion  none  that  will  not  yeeld? 
If  this  affirme  you  will  not  dare, 
Then  let  me  Faith  with  Faith  compare. 


Willoby  des- 
cribed no 
particular 
woman,  but 
only  Chastity 
and  faith  it 
selfe  under 
the  name  of 
A  visa. 


Let  choyce  respecl  of  Persons  slide 
Let  Faith  and  Faith  a  while  contend, 
Urge  not  the  Names  till  cause  be  tride, 
Tis  only  Faith,  that  we  commend, 

We  strive  not  for  Aviso's  fame. 

We  recke  not  of  Aviso's  name.    • 


To  prove  him  vaine,  that  vainely  strives, 
That  Chastity  is  no  where  found, 
In  English  earth,  in  British  wives, 
That  all  are  fickle,  all  unsound, 

We  framde  a  wench,  we  fain 'd  a  name, 
That  should  confound  them  all  with  shame. 


Chastity  is 
termed  A- 
visa  quasi 
Non  Visa, 
aut  ab  Ave 
Altivolanto. 


,,  To  this  at  first  you  did  consent, 

„  And  lent  with  joy  your  helping  hand, 

,,  You  both  at  first  were  well  content, 

,,  This  fained  frame  should  firmely  stand, 

,,       We  to  Diana  gave  the  maide,          ) 

,,       That  she  might  no  way  be  betraid.  )  3 


,,  The  mounting  Phcrnix,  chast  desire,    \ 
,,  This  Vertue  fram'd,  to  conquer  Vice,  j  4 
,,  This  Not-seene  Nimp/i,  this  heatlesse  fire, 
,,  This  Chast  found  Bird,  of  noble  price, 
,,       Was  nam'de  Aviso  by  decree, 
,,       That  Name  and  nature  might  agree. 


If 


1  Allegory,  the  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  dismantled  Masque.      Cp.  sub-note  i,  p.  40. 
8  Cp.  notes  from  Messrs.  Gollancz  and  Lee,  pp.  48,  49. 

8  Mother  Nature  herself  a  dramatist.     Cp.  the  Diana  poem,  p.  302,  and  all  of 
frontispage  10. 

4  Cp.  the  sensual  line  of  the  Dramatis  Personce,  p.  253. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship. 


343 


If  this  Avisa  represent, 

Chast  Vertite  in  a  fained  name, 

If  Chastity  it  selfe  be  ment, 

To  be  extold  with  lasting  fame; 

Her  Greekish  gemme  can  Juno  dare, 

With  this  Avisa  to  compare? 

Let  wise  Ulysses  constant  mate, 

Vaunt  noble  birth  her  richest  boast, 

Yet  will  her  challenge  come  too  late, 

When  Pride  and  wealth  have  done  their  most, 

For  this  Avisa  from  above 

Come  down  whose  Syre,  is  might}7  Jove.2 

How  can  you  terme  her  then  Obscure, 
That  shines  so  bright  in  every  eye? 
How  is  she  base  that  can  endure, 
So  long,  so  much  and  mounts  so  hie? 

If  she  you  meane,  have  no  such  power, 

Tis  37our  Avisa,  none  of  our. 

This  not  scene  bird,  though  rarely  found, 
In  proud  attire,  in  gorgeous  gownes, 
Though  she  love  most  the  countrie  ground, 
And  shunnes  the  great  and  wealthy  townes, 
Yet  if  3"ou  know  a  bird  so  base, 
In  this  Device  she  hath  no  place. 

Was  Greekish  dame  twice  ten  yeares  chast, 

Did  she  twice  fiftie  flat  deny? 

Avisa  hath  Ten  thousand  past, 

To  thousands  daily  doth  repl}-, 
If  your  Avisa  have  a  blot, 
Your  owne  it  is,  we  know  her  not. 


?)  Chastity  is 
the  gift  of 
"  God. 


True   Chasti- 
ty is  sooner 
and  oftner 
found  in  the 
poorest  then 
in  the  richest. 


Chastity  is 
daily  assaul- 
ted a  thou- 
sand wayes 
yet  it  still 
getteth  the 
victorie. 


Some 


"So  you  of  time  shall  live  beyond  the  end."     Cp.  Draytori1  s  Sonnet,  1.  14, 
p.  246. 

2  Cp.  note  2,  p.  237. 


344  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

,,  Some  greatly  doubt  your  Grecian  dame 
,,  Where  all  be  true  that  Poets  faine: 
,,  But  Chastity  who  can  for  shame, 
,,  Denie  she  hath,  and  will  remaine. 
,,       Though  women  daily  doe  relent. 
Yet  this  A  visa  cannot  faint. 


,,  She  quels  by  Reason  filthy  lust, 
The  effects,    ,,  Shee  chokes  by   IVisdome  leude  Desires 

°futrue.          .,  Shee  shunnes  the  baite  that  Fondlings  trust, 
Cnastitie. 

,,  From  Sathans  fleights  she  quite  retires, 

,,       Then  let  Aviso's  prayse  bee  spread, 

,,       When  rich  and  poore,  when  all  are  dead. 

,,  Let  idle  vaine,  and  Flewent  Rigges, 

,,  Be  Cant  on' de  with  eternall  shame, 

,,  Let  blowing  buddes  of  blessed  twigges, 

,,  Let  Chast-Avisa  live  with  fame: 

,,       This  said,  Sweet  Pallas  takes  her  rest, 

,,       Judge  Prince  (quoth  she)  what  you  thinke  best. 

The  sen-        But  wise  Rogero  pawsing  staid, 

tenceof  Ro-  whose  silence  seem'd  to  shew  some  doubt, 

gero  against 

Juno.  Yet  this  at  last  he  gravely  said, 

Ye  Nimphes  that  are  so  faire,  so  stout, 
Sith  I  your  Judge  to  Judge  must  be, 
Accept  in  worth,  this  short  decree. 

,,  The  question  is,  where  Grecian  Ghost, 
,,  Can  staine  the  stemme  of  Troy  an  race: 
,,  Where  Ithac  Nimphes  may  onely  boast, 
,,  And  Brittish  Faith  account  as  base, 
,,       Where  old  Penelops  doubtfull  fame, 
,,       Selfe  Chastity  may  put  to  shame? 


1  Cp.  notes,  p.  37. 


Poems  Bearing  on  the  Authorship. 


345 


I  count  Ulysses  happy  Then, 

I  deeme  our  selves  as  happy  Now, 

His  wife  denide  all  other  men, 

I  know  them  yet  that  will  not  bow, 

For  Chastity  I  durst  compare, 

With  Greece,  with  Rome,  with  who  that  dare. 


Our  English  earth  such  Angels  breeds, 
As  can  disdaine  all  Forraine  prayse, 
For  Learning,   IVit,  for  sober  Deeds, 
All  Europe  Dames  may  learne  their  waves: 
Sith  I  of  both  may  take  my  choyce, 
Our  Not-seene  Bird  shall  have  my  voyce. 


»  England  for 

Chastitie 

may  yet 
»  compare  with 

any  country 

in  the  world. 


Sweet e  Chastity  shall  have  my  hand, 
In  England  found,  though  rarely  seene, 
Rare  Chastitie,  To  this  1  stand, 
Is  still  as  firme,  as  erst  hath  beene: 
While  this  A  visa  is  the  shee, 
This  Chast  desire  shall  Victor  be. 


u  Conclusion. 


The  Rose  appeares  in  Venus  face, 
Vermillion  dies  pale  Juno's  cheekes, 
They  both  doe  blush  at  this  disgrace, 
But  Juno  chiefe,  something  mislikes, 
As  though  she  felt  some  inward  touch, 
That  for  her  Greeke  had  spoke  so  much. 

FINIS. 

Thomas  Willoby  Frater 
Henrici  Willoby  nu- 
per  defuncti. 


For  further  data  bearing  on  Willobie' 's  Amsat  cp.  pp.  25,  35,  42,  48  and  49. 


MONKS  OF  MONKERY1 

— OR— 

OF  FORMER  READINGS  OF  THE  SONNETS. 

"You  shall  find  them  seren,  cleere  and  elegantly 
plaine,  such  gentle  straines  as  shall  recreate  and  not 
perplexe  your  braine,  no  intricate2  or  cloudy  stuffe  to 
puzzell  intellect,  but  perfect  eloquence.  "-  —Preface,  Ben- 
sons  Edition  of  The  Sonnets,  1640. 

'  The  great  poetical  lawgiver  of  the  days  of  George 
III. — pronounced  that  the  Sonnets  were  too  bad  even 
for  his  genius  to  make  tolerable.  He,  Steevens,  sent 
forth  his  decree  that  nothing  less  than  an  Act  of  Parli- 
ament could  compel  the  reading  of  Shakespeare's  Son- 
nets. "-  -  Works  of  Shakspere,  Charles  Knight,  p.  674. 

"A  strenuous  endeavor  not  to  read  the  sonnets  has 
recently  been  made  by  a  German,  named  BarnstorfT, 
and  it  is  out  of  sight  more  successful  than  any  attempt 
yet  made  to  read  them.  It  is  so  immeasurably  far- 
reaching,  so  unfathomably  profound,  that  we  may  call 
it  perfectly  successful.  This  author  has  discovered  that 
the  sonnets  are  a  vast  Allegory,  for  they  do  not  speak  to 
beings  of  flesh  and  blood, 3  no  Earls  of  Southampton  or 
Pembroke,  no  Queen  Elizabeth  or  Elizabeth  Vernon, 
no  corporeal  being,  in  short,  no  body  whatever,  but 
Shakespeare's  own  genius  or  art. "--Shakespeare s  Son- 
nets, Gerald  Mass ey,  p.  17. 


1  With  Uncle  Sam's  compliments  to  Mr.  J.  B.  Swinburne,  cp.  his  Studies  it, 
Shakespeare,  p.  214. 

2  Cp.  the  Italian  Lord's  Cretan  labyrinth,  p.  146. 

3  Barnstorff  is  right 

"God,  Man  nor  Woman,  but  elix'd  of  all." 
John  Marston.     Cp.  pp.  254,  265. 


Monks  of  Monkery.  347 

"As  late  as  1797  George  Chalmers  strenuously  ar- 
gued that  the  Sonnets  were  written  to,  or  meant  for, 
Queen  Elizabeth;  and  not  until  about  the  beginning  of 
the  present  century  did  a  decided  change  of  opinion  take 
place. "  —A  New  Study  of  The  Sonnets  of  Shakespeare, 
Parke  Godwin^  p.  39. 

"Having  thus  determined  that  Elizabeth  was  the 
'Phoenix,'1  I  proceed  now  to  inquire  who  was  intended 
by  the  'Turtle  Dove;'1  and  the  whole  bearing  of  the 
Poems,  make  us  think  of  but  one  preeminent  man  in  the 
Court  of  Elizabeth,  and  unless  I  err  egregiously,  it  will 
be  felt  that  only  of  the  brilliant  but  impetuous,  the 
greatly  do\vered  but  rash,  the  illustrious  but  unhappy 
Robert  Devereux,  Second  Earl  of  Essex,  could  such 
splendid  things  have  been  thought. "-—Loves  Martyr, 
[Dr.  Grosart's  Ed.  1878.]  p.  xxxiv.,  xxxv. 

"It  has  scarcely  ever  been  doubted,  among  critics, 
that  the  sonnets,  smaller  poems,  and  plays  were  the 
work  of  one  and  the  same  author;  the  similitudes  of 
thought,  style,  and  diction  are  such  as  to  put  at  rest  all 
question  on  that  head;  though  many  have  experienced 
insurmountable  difficulties  in  the  attempt  to  reconcile 
the  sonnets  with  the  life  of  the  man  William  Shake- 
speare ....  Many  of  them  show  the  strongest  internal 
evidence  of  their  having  been  addressed  to  the  Queen, 
as  they  no  doubt  were. l  Bacon  tells  us,  that  'she  was 
very  willing  to  be  courted,  wooed,  and  to  have  sonnets 
made  in  her  commendation. '  -  The  Authorship  of 
Shakespeare,  Judge  Holmes,  Vol.  I.,  p.  187. 

1  Cp.  p.  255. 


348  Shake-speare  England 's    Ulysses, 

'  'Upon  Shakespeare's  Sonnets  such  a  preposterous 
pyramid  of  presumptious  commentary  has  long  since 
been  reared  by  the  Cimmerian  speculation  and  Boeotian 
'brain-sweat'  of  sciolists1  and  scholiasts,  that  no  mod- 
est man  will  hope  and  no  wise  man  will  desire  to  add  to 
the  structure  or  substract  from  it  one  single  brick  of 
proof  or  disproof,  theorum  or  theory.  "-—^4  Study  of 
Shakespeare,  Swinburne,  p.  62. 

"Scorn  not  the  sonnet,  Critic,  you  have  frowned 
Mindless  of  its  just  honours.     With  this  key 
Shakespeare  unlocked  his  heart-" 

Wordsworth. 

With  this  same  key 

Shakespeare  unlocked  his  heart' — once  more! 
Did  Shakespeare?     If  so,  the  less  Shakespeare  he!" 

Browning. 

"No  whit  the  less  like  Shakespeare,  but  undoubtedly  the  less 
like  Browning."— Swin burne. 

'The  Phoenix  and  the  Dove,3  or  Turtle,  where  the 
Phoenix  represents  constancy — I  suppose  from  its  ever 
returning  after  death  to  its  'sun  bright  seats, '  [as  the 
old  Anglo-Saxon  poet  calls  them]  and  the  Turtle-dove 
represents  true  love.  It  has  more  complex  ideas  in  it, 
for  the  number  of  words,  than  perhaps  any  other  poem 
in  our  language,  and  it  takes  some  diligence  of  mind, 
with  the  poem  before  your  eyes,  to  make  out  all  its 
meaning.  For  a  certain  far-withdrawn  and  heart- 
conquering  tenderness,  we  have  not  another  poem  like 
it."-—Shakspere  and  His  Forerunners,  Sidney  Lanicr, 
Vol.  I.,  p.  94. 

1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  346. 
:  "O  Caesar!  thou  art  mighty  yet." 
3  Cp.  p.  255. 


Monks  of  Monkery.  349 

"No  vainer  fancies  this  side  of  madness  ever  entered 
the  human  mind,  than  certain  expositions  of  the  Sonnets 
of  Shakespeare.  The  very  initials  of  the  dedicatee 
4W.  H.'  have  had  volumes  written  about  them;  the 
Sonnets  themselves  have  been  twisted  and  classified  in 
every  conceivable  shape.  The  persons  to  whom  they 
are  addressed,  or  to  whom  they  refer,  have  been  iden- 
tified with  half  the  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  Elizabeth's 
court,  and  half  the  men  of  letters  of  the  time;  some  of 
them  are  evidently,  addressed  to  a  man,  others  to  a  wo- 
man. For  my  part  I  am  unable  to  find  the  slightest  in- 
terest or  the  most  rudimentary  importance  in  the  ques- 
tions whether  the  4Mr.  W.  H.'  of  the  dedication  was  the 
Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  if  so,  whether  he  was  also  the 
object  of  the  majority  of  the  Sonnets;  whether  the  'dark 
lady'  the  'woman  colored  ill'  was  Miss  Mary  Fitton; 
whether  the  rival  poet  was  Chapman. l  Very  likely  all 
these  things  are  true:  very  likely  not  one  of  them  is  true. 
They  are  impossible  of  settlement,  and  if  they  were  set- 
tled they  would  not  in  the  slightest  degree  affect  the  po- 
etical beauty  and  the  Jiuman  interest  of  the  Sonnets. 

Hallam  thought  it  impossible  not  to  wish  that  Shake- 
speare had  not  wrritten,  what  some  critics,  not  perhaps 
the  least  qualified,  have  regarded  as  the  high  water- 
mark of  English,  if  not  of  all,  poetry.  This  latter  es- 
timate will  only  be  dismissed  as  exaggerated  by  those 
wrho  are  debarred  from  appreciation  by  want  of  sympa- 
thy with  the  subject,  or  distracted  by  want  of  compre- 
hension of  it.  " — History  of  English  Literature, 

Geo,   Saints  bury,  p.   161. 

1  Cp,  p.  130, 


350  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

"In  1601,  Shakespeare's  full  name  was  appended 
to  'a  poetical  essaie  on  the  Phoenix  and  the  Turtle.' 
The  poem  may  be  a  mere  play  of  fancy  without  recondite 
intention,  or  it  may  be  of  allegorical  import.  Happily 
Shakespeare  wrote  nothing  else  of  like  character."-  .  / 
Life  of  Shakespeare,  Sidney  Lee,  p.  183. 

"I  advise  caution  in  accepting  the  theory,  as  at 
present  developt,  that  the  Phoenix  and  Turtle  are  Eliz- 
abeth and  Essex,  for  it  may  lead  them  into  the  mixture 
of  the  man  who  next  week  went  last  month  to  find  a 
mares  nest. "-—  F.  /.  Furntval,  AV?v  Shake  Soc.,  Series 
i,  Vols.  V.-VIL,  p.  88. 

"The  supreme  object  of  Shakespeare's  Sonnets  was 
to  aid  in  getting  Southampton  married,  and  see  him  safe 
in  Mistress  Vernons'  arms,  encompassed  with  content. 
This  is  the  be-all  and  end-all  of  his  song;  his  one  theme 
with  many  variations.  "  —Shakespeare  s  Sonnefs,  (Herald 
Massey,  p.  286. 

"Strange  as  is  may  seem,  it  is  nevertheless  the  fact, 
that  during  the  first  eighty  years  of  the  eighteenth  century 
the  Sonnets  were  taken  as  being  all  addressed  to  a  wo- 
man, all  written  in  honour  of  Shakespeare's  mistress. 
It  was  not  till  1780  that  M alone  and  his  circle  pointed 
out  that  more  than  one  hundred  of  the  poems  were  ad- 
dressed to  a  man Not  until  the  beginning  of  the 

nineteenth  century  did  people  in  general  understand, 
what  Shakespeare  s  contemporaries  can  never  have  doubt- 
ed, 1  that  the  first  hundred  and  twenty-six  Sonnets  were 
inspired  by  a  young  mate."  —Shakespeare,  A  Critical 
Study,  Geo.  Hrandes,  p.  266. 

1  Cp.  all  of  frontispage  3. 


Monks  of  Monkery.  351 

'It  was  doubtless  to  Shakespeare's  personal  re- 
lations with  men  and  women  of  the  Court  that  his  son- 
nets owe  their  existence.'  ....  Sonnet  cvn.,1  in  which 
plain  reference  is  made  to  Queen  Elizabeth's  death, 
may  be  fairly  regarded  as  a  belated  and  final  act  of  ho- 
mage on  Shakespeare's  part  to  the  importunate  vogue 
of  the  Elizabethan  sonnet. "—A  Life  of  Shakespeare, 
Lee,  pp.  83,  87. 

The  god  of  Grace  to  Mother  Nature? 

"The  statute  of  thy  beauty  thou  wilt  take, 
Thou  usurer,  that  put'st  forth  all  to  use, 
And  sue  a  friend  came  debtor  for  my  sake; 
So  him  I  lose  through  my  unkind  abuse.'" 

"Abuse  of  his  [Shakespeare's]  good-nature,  which 
has  turned  out  ill  for  him.  The  metaphor  of  this,  and 
other  sonnets,  is  reminiscent  of  the  straits  to  which  the 
poet's  father  reduced  himself  and  his  friends  who  went 
surety  for  him  to  the  baker. "  —Shakespeare  s  Poems, 
Wyndham,  p.  327. 

'  'In  the  sonnets  he  [Shakespeare]  had  already  dwrelt 
upon  his  age,  he  says,  for  instance  in  Sonnet  CXXXVIIL," 

\JFather  Time  to  Tfie  goddess  Envy.  "^ 

When  my  love  swears  that  she  is  made  of  truth, 
I  do  believe  her,  though  I  know  she  lies 
That  she  might  think  me  some  untutor'd  youth 
Unlearned  in  the  world's  false  subtleties. 
Thus  vainly  thinking  that  she  thinks  me  young, 
Although  she  knows  my  days  are  past  the  best, 
Simply  I  credit  her  false-speaking  tongue. 

A  Critical  Study,  Brandes,  p.  472. 

1  Cp,  p,  121.  2  Cp.  p.  103.  3  Cp.  p.  60. 


352  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

"The  'sweet  abandonment  of  love'  was  the  great 
occupation  of  Shakespeares  life  .  .  .  He  had  many  loves, 
amongst  others  one  for  a  sort  of  Marion  Delorme,  a 
miserable  deluding  despotic  passion,  of  which  he  felt 
the  burden  and  the  shame,  but  from  which  nevertheless 
he  could  not  and  would  not  free  himself  ....  But  what 
a  soiled  Celimene,  is  the  creature  before  whom  Shake- 
speare kneels,  with  as  much  scorn  as  of  desire!" 

[The  goddess  Envy  to  the  goddess  Reason JY 

Those  lips  of  thine, 

That  have  profaned  their  scarlet  ornaments 
And  seal'd  false  bonds  of  love  as  oft  as  mine, 
Robb'd  others  bed's  revenues  of  their  rents. 

English  Literature,   Taine,  Vol.  I.,  p.  345. 

The  god  of  Desire  to  the  god  of  Lore.2 
As  a  decrepit  father  takes  delight 
To  see  his  active  child  do  deeds  of  youth, 
So  I,  made  lame  by  fortune's  dearest  spite, 
Take  all  my  comfort  of  thy  worth  and  truth. 

Sonnet  xxxvu. 

"I  accept  the  lameness,  poverty  and  contempt  as 
literally  true  for  this  period  of  Shakespeare's  life.  It 
does  not  follow  that  he  had  been  lame  long,  nor  yet  that 
he  remained  so.  He  may  have  been  'made  lame'  by 
some  accident— possibly  in  a  recent  scuffle. "--Shake- 
speares Sonnets,  Samuel  Butler,  p.  159. 

'Tis  lameness  of  the  mind 

That  had  no  better  skill:  yet  let  it  passe, 
For  burdnous  lodes  are  set  upon  asse. 

Robert  Chester*  in  Love's  Martyr,  p.  142. 

1  Cp.  p.  69.  2  Cp.  p.  35. 

3  For  the   identity  of   this  hitherto  unknown  and  never-again-heard-of  poet 
[except  in  Love's  Martyr,}  see  pen  names  of  Essex,  frontispiece. 


[  APPENDIX  I.  ] 


LOVE'S   MARTYR 


OR 


ROSALIN'S    COMPLAINT. 


LOVES    MARTYR: 

OR, 

ROSALINS   COMPLAINT. 

Allegorically  Shadowing  the  truth  of  Love, 

in  the  constant  Fate  of  the  Phoenix 

and  Turtle. 

A  Poeme  enterlaced  with  much  varietie  and  raritie; 

now  first  translated  out  of  the  venerable  Italian  Torquato 

Caeliano,  by  ROBERT  CHESTER. 

With  the  true  legend  of  famous  King  Arthur,  the  last  of  the  nine 

Worthies,  being  the  first  Essay  of  a  new  Brytish  Poet:  collected 

out  of  diverse  Authenticall  Records. 

To  these  are  added  some  nefw  compositions,  of  severall  modern  Writers 

'whose  names  are  subscribed  to  their  sever  all  workes,  upon  the 

first  subject:  'viz.  the  Phoenix  and 

Turtle. 

Mar : — Mutare  dominum  non  potest  liber  notus} 


LONDON 

Imprinted  for  E.  B, 
1601. 


1  Cp.  notes,  p.  148, 


TO    THE    HONORA- 

ble,  and  (of  me  before  all  other) 

honored  Knight,  Sir  John  Salisburie 

one  of  the  Esquires  of  the  bodie  to  the 

Queenes  most  excellent  Majestie,  Robert 

Chester  wisheth  increase  of  vertue 

and  honour. 

Posse   &  nolle,   no  bile. 

HOnorable  Sir,  having  according  to  the  directions 
of  some  of  my  best-minded  friends,  finished  my 
long  expected  labour;1  knowing  this  ripe  judging  world 
to  be  full  of  envie,  every  one  [as  sound  reason  requireth] 
thinking  his  owne  child  to  be  fairest  although  an  /Ethio- 
pian, I  am  emboldened  to  put  my  infant  wit  to  the  eye 
of  the  world  under  your  protectio  knowing  that  if  Ab- 
surditie  like  a  theefe  have  crept  into  any  part  of  these 
Poems,  your  well-graced  name  will  over-shadow  these 
defaults,  and  the  knowne  Caracter  of  your  vertues,  cause 
the  common  back-biting  enemies  of  good  spirits,  to  be 
silent.  To  the  World  I  put  my  Child  to  nurse,  at  the 
expence  of  your  favour,  whose  glorie  will  stop  the 
mouthes  of  the  vulgar,  and  I  hope  cause  the  learned  to 
rocke  it  asleepe  [for  your  sake]  in  the  bosome  of  good 
wil.  Thus  wishing  you  all  the  blessings  of  heaven  and 
earth;  I  end. 

Yours  in  all  service, 

Ro.   CHESTER. 

1  That  Love's  Martyr  is  a  posthumous  work  of  Shake-speare,  cp.  all  of  p.  297. 

356 


The  Authors  request  to 
the  Phoenix.1 

PHcenix  of  beautie,  beauteous  Bird  of  any 
To  thee  I  do  entitle  all  my  labour, 
More  precioiis  in  mine  eye  by  far  then  many, 
That  feedst  all  earthly  sences  with  thy  savour: 
Accept  my  home-writ  praises  of  thy  love, 
And  kind  acceptance  of  thy  Turtle-dove. 1 

Some  deepe-read  scholler  fam  d  for  Poetrie, 
Whose  wit-enchanting  verse  deserveth  fame, 
Should  sing  of  thy  perfections  passing  beautie, 
And  elevate  thy  famous  worthy  name: 
Yet  I  the  least,  and  meanest  in  degree, 
Endevoured  have  to  please  in  praising  thee. 

R.  Chester. 

1  cp.  P.  255- 


To  the  kind  Reader. 

OF  bloudy  warres,  nor  of  the  sacke  of  Troy, 
Of  Pryams  murdred  sonncs,  nor  Didoes  fall, 
(9/Hellens  rape,  by  Paris  Trojan  boy, 
Of  Caesars  victories,  nor  Pompeys  thrall, 
<9/  Lucrece  rape,  being  ravisht  by  a  /\ing, 
Of  none  of  these,  of  sweete  Conceit  I  sing. 

Then  (gentle  Reader}  over-read  my  Muse, 

That  armes  her  self e  to  flie  a  lowly  flight, 

My  untun  d  stringed  verse  do  thou  excuse, 

That  may  perhaps  accepted,  yeeld  delight: 

I  cannot  clime  in  praises  to  the  skie, 

Least  falling,  I  be  dr own  d  with  infamie. 

Mea  mecum  Porto. 

R.   Ch, 


1  Cp.  note  i,  p.  354. 


ROSALINS  COM- 
PLAINT, METAPHORI- 

cally  applied  to  Dame  Nature  at  a  Parlia- 

ment  held  (in  the  high  Star-chamber )  by  the 

Gods,  for  the  preservation  and  increase  of 

Earths  beauteous  Phoenix. 


ASolemne  day  of  meeting  mongst  the  Gods, 
And  royall  parliament  there  was  ordained: 
The  heavenly  Synod  was  at  open  ods, 
And  many  harts  with  earthly  wrongs  were  pained: 
Some  came  to  crave  excuse,  some  to  complaine 
Of  heavie  burdend  griefes  they  did  sustaine. 

Vesta  she  told,  her  Temple  was  defiled: 
Juno  how  that  her  nuptiall  knot  was  broken; 
Venus  from  her  sonne  Cupid  was  exiled: 
And  Pallas  tree  with  ignorance  was  shoken: 
Bellona  rav'd  at  Lordlike  cowardice, 
And  Cupid  that  fond  Ladies  were  so  nice. 

To  this  Assembly  came  Dame  Nature  weeping, 
And  with  her  handkercher  through' wet  with  teares, 
She  dried  her  rosie  cheekes,  made  pale  with  sighing, 
Hanging  her  wofull  head,  head  full  of  feares: 
And  to  Joves  selfe  plac'd  in  a  golden  seate, 
She  kneeld  her  downe,  and  thus  gan  to  intreate: 

Thou  mightie  Imperator  of  the  earth, 
Thou  ever-living  Regent  of  the  aire, 
That  to  all  creatures  giv'st  a  lively  breath, 


36° 


Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


And  thundrest  wrath  downe  from  thy  fine  chaire, 
Behold  thy  handmaid,  king  of  earthly  kings, 
That  to  thy  gracious  sight  sad  tidings  brings. 

One  rare  rich  Phoenix1  of  exceeding  beautie, 
One  none-like  Lillie  in  the  earth  I  placed; 
One  faire  Helena,  to  whom  men  owe  dutie: 
One  countrey  with  a  milke-white  Dove  I  graced: 

One  and  none  such,  since  the  wide  world  was  found 
Hath  ever  Nature  placed  on  the  ground.2 

Head.  Her  head  I  framed  of  a  heavenly  map, 

Wherein  the  sevenfold  vertues  were  enclosed, 
When  great  Apollo  slept  within  my  lap, 
And  in  my  bosome  had  his  rest  reposed, 
I  cut  away  his  locks  of  purest  gold, 
And  plac'd  them  on  her  head  of  earthly  mould. 

Haire.  When  the  least  whistling  wind  begins  to  sing, 

And  gently  blowes  her  haire  about  her  necke, 
Like  to  a  chime  of  bels  it  soft  doth  ring, 
And  with  the  pretie  noise  the  wind  doth  checke, 
Able  to  lull  asleepe  a  pensive  hart, 
That  of  the  round  ^worlds  sorrowes  beares  a  part. 

Forehead.     Her  forehead  is  a  place  for  princely  Jove 
To  sit,  and  censure  matters  of  import: 
Wherein  men  reade  the  sweete  conceipts  of  Love, 
To  which  hart-pained  Lovers  do  resort, 

And  in  this  Tablet  find  to  cure  the  wound, 
For  which  no  salve  or  herbe  was  ever  found. 


1  Allegory,  the  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  dismantled  Masque. 

2  I  would  remind  the   reader  that  here,  as  throughout  the  Masque,  Mother 
Nature  speaks  of  herself  as  Nature,  this  is  not   the  least   confusing  part  of  the 
exposition. 


Rosaliris  Complaint.  361 

Under  this  mirrour,  are  her  princely  eyes:  Eyes. 

Two  Carbuncles,  two  rich  imperiall  lights; 
That  ore  the  day  and  night  do  soveraignize, 
And  their  dimme  tapers  to  their  rest  she  frights: 

Her  eyes  excell  the  Moone  and  glorious  Sonne, 

And  when  she  riseth  al  their  force  is  donne. 

Her  morning-coloured  cheekes,  in  which  is  plac'd,  Cheekes. 

A  Lillie  lying  in  a  bed  of  Roses; 

This  part  above  all  others  I  have  grac'd, 

For  in  the  blue  veines  you  may  reade  sweet  posies: 

When  she  doth  blush,  the  Heavens  do  wax  red. 

When  she  lookes  pale,  that  heavenly  Front  is  dead. 

Her  chinne  a  litle  litle  pretie  thing  Chinne. 

In  which  the  sweet  carnatian  Gelli-flower, 
Is  round  encompast  in  a  christall  ring, 
And  of  that  pretie  Orbe  doth  beare  a  power: 

No  storme  of  Envie  can  this  glorie  touch, 

Though  many  should  assay  it  overmuch. 

Her  lippes  two  rubie  Gates  from  whence  doth  spring,         Lippes. 

Sweet  honied  deaw  by  an  intangled  kisse, 

From  forth  these  glories  doth  the  Night-bird  sing, 

A  Nightingale  that  no  right  notes  will  miss: 

True  learned  Eloquence  and  Poetrie, 

Do  come  betwene  these  dores  of  excellencie. 

Her  teeth  are  hewed  from  rich  crystal  Rockes,  Teeth. 

Or  from  the  Indian  pearle  of  much  esteem, 
These  in  a  closet  her  deep  counsell  lockes, 


362 


Skake-speare  England 's   Ulysses, 


And  are  as  porters  to  so  faire  a  Queene, 

They  taste  the  diet  of  the  heav'nly  traine 
Other  base  grossenesse  they  do  still  disdaine. 

Tongue.        Her  tongue  the  utterer  of  all  glorious  things. 
The  silver  clapper  of  that  golden  bell, 
That  never  soundeth  but  to  mightie  Kings, 
And  when  she  speakes,  her  speeches  do  excell: 
He  in  a  happie  chaire  himselfe  doth  place, 
Whose  name  with  her  sweet  tongue  she  means  to 
grace. 

Necke.          Her  necke  is   Vestas  silver  conduict  pipe, 
In  which  she  powers  perfect  chastitie, 
And  of  the  muskie  grapes  in  sommer  ripe, 
She  makes  a  liquor  of  rarietie, 

That  dies  this  swanne-like  piller  to  a  wThite, 
More  glorious  then  the  day  with  all  his  light. 

Breastes.      Her  breasts  two  crystal  orbes  of  whitest  white, 

Two  little  mounts  from  whence  lifes  comfort  springs. 
Between  those  hillockes  Cupid  doth  delight 
To  sit  and  play,  and  in  that  valley  sings: 

Looking  love-babies  in  her  wanton  eyes, 

That  all  grosse  vapours  thence  doth  chastesize. 


Armes.          Her  armes  are  branches  of  that  silver  tree, 
That  men  surname  the  rich  Hesperides, 
A  precious  circling  shew  of  modestie, 
When  she  doth  spread  these  glories  happines: 

Ten  times  ten  thousand  blessings  he  doth  state, 
Whose  circled  armes  shall  cling  about  her  waste. 


Rosaliris  Complaint.  363 

Her  hands  are  fortunes  palmes,  where  men  may  reade    Hands. 

His  first  houres  destiny,  or  weale  or  woe, 

When  she  this  sky-like  map  abroad  doth  spreade, 

Like  pilgrimes  man}7  to  this  Saint  do  go, 

And  in  her  hand,  white  hand,  they  there  do  see 

Love  lying  in  a  bed  of  ivorie. 

Her  fingers  long  and  small  do  grace  her  hand;  Fingers. 

For  when  she  toucheth  the  sweete  sounding  Lute, 
The  wild  untamed  beasts  amaz'd  do  stand, 
And  carroll-chanting  birds  are  sudden  mute: 

O  fingers  how  you  grace  the  silver  wires, 

And  in  humanitie  burne   Venus  fires! 

Her  bellie  (o  grace  incomprehensible)  Bellie. 

Far  whiter  then  the  milke-white  lillie  flower. 

O  might  Arabian  Pluvnix  come  invisible, 

And  on  this  mountaine  build  a  glorious  bower, 

Then  Sunne  and  Moone  as  tapers  to  her  bed, 
Would  light  loves  Lord  to  take  her  maidenhead. 

Be  still  my  thoughts,  be  silent  all  yee  Muses,  Nota. 

Wit-flowing  eloquence  now  grace  my  tongue: 

Arise  old  Homer  and  make  no  excuses,      j 

Of  a  rare  peece  of  art  must  be  my  song,  f  * 

Of  more  then  most,  and  most  of  all  beloved, 
About  the  which   Venus  sweete  doves  have  hovered. 


There  is  a  place  in  lovely  paradize, 

From  whence  the  golden  Gehon  overflowes 

A  fountaine  of  such  honorable  prize, 


Cp.  all  of  p.  20. 


364  Shake-speare  England '  s    Ulysses, 

That  none  the  sacred,  sacred  vertues  knowes, 
Walled  about,  betok'ning  sure  defence, 
With  trees  of  life,  to  keepe  bad  errors  thence.1 

Thighes.  Her  thighs  two  pillers  fairer  far  then  faire, 
Two  underprops  of  that  celestiall  house, 
That  Mansion  that  is  Junos  silver  chaire, 
In  which  Ambrosia  VENUS  doth  carouse, 

And  in  her  thighs  the  prety  veines  are  running 
Like  Christall  rivers  from  the  maine  streames  flowing. 

Legges.    Her  legges  are  made  as  graces  to  the  rest, 
So  pretie,  white,  and  so  proportionate, 
That  leades  her  to  loves  royall  sportive  nest, 
Like  to  a  light  bright  Angel  in  her  gate: 

For  why  no  creature  in  the  earth  but  she; 

Is  like  an  Angell,  Angell  let  her  be. 

Feetc.       Her  Feete  [now  draw  I  to  conclusion] 

Are  neat  and  litle  to  delight  the  eye, 

No  tearme  in  all  humane  invention, 

Or  in  the  veine  of  sweet  writ  Poetrie 

Can  ere  be  found,  to  give  her  feet  that  grace, 

That  beares  her  corporate  Soule  from  place  to  place. 

And  if  by  night  she  walke,  the  Marigold, 

That  doth  inclose  the  glorie  of  her  eye, 

At  her  approach  her  beauty  doth  unfold, 

And  spreads  her  selfe  in  all  her  royaltie, 

Such  vertue  hath  this  Phoenix  glassy  shield, 

That  Floures  and  Herbs  at  her  faire  sight  do  yeeld. 


1  Cp.  all  of  p.  250. 


Ro safaris  Complaint.  365 

And  if  she  grace  the  Walkes  within  the  day, 

Flora  doth  spreade  an  Arras  cloth  of  flowers, 

.Before  her  do  the  prety  Satires  play, 

And  make  her  banquets  in  their  leavie  Bowers: 

Head,  Haire,  Brow,  Eyes,  Cheeks,  Chin  and  all 

Lippes,  Teeth,  Tong,  Neck,  Brests,  Belly  are  majesticall. 

This  Phoenix  I  do  feare  me  will  decay, 
And  from  her  ashes  never  will  arise 
An  other  Bird  her  wings  for  to  display, 
And  her  rich  beauty  for  to  equalize: 

The  Arabian  fires  are  too  dull  and  base, 

To  make  another  spring  within  her  place. 

Therefore  dread  Regent  of  these  Elements, 

Pitie  poore  Nature  in  her  Art  excelling,1 

Give  thou  an  humble  eare  to  my  laments, 

That  to  thee  have  a  long  true  tale  beene  telling, 
Of  her,  who  when  it  please  thee  to  behold, 
Her  outward  sight  shall  bewties  pride  unfold. 

At  these  words  Jove  stood  as  a  man  amazed, 
And  Junos  love-bread  bewtie  turnd  to  white, 
Venus  she  blusht,  and  on  dame  Nature  gazed, 
And   Vesta  she  began  to  weepe  outright: 

And  little  Cupid  poore  boy  strucke  in  love, 

With  repetition  of  this  earthl}^  Dove. 

But  at  the  last  Jove  gan  to  rouse  his  spirit, 
And  told  dame  Nature  in  her  sweet  discourse; 
Her  womans  Toung  did  run  before  her  Wit, 


1  Cp.  Spenser's  lines  p.  10. 


366  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

Such  a  faire  soul  her  selfe  could  never  nurse, 
Nor  in  the  vastie  earth  was  ever  living, 
Such  beauty  that  all  beauty  was  excelling. 

Nature  was  strucke  with  pale  temeritie, 

To  see  the  God  of  thunders  lightning  eyes. 

He  shooke  his  knotty  haire  so  wrathfully, 

As  if  he  did  the  heavenly  rout  despise: 

Then  down  upon  her  knee  dame  Nature  fals, 
And  on  the  great  gods  name  aloud  she  cals. 

Jove  thou  shalt  see  my  commendations, 

To  be  unworthie  and  impartiall, 

To  make  of  her  an  extallation, 

Whose  beautie  is  devine  majesticall. 

Looke  on  that  painted  picture  there,  behold 
The  rich  wrought  Phoenix  of  Arabian  gold. 

Joves  eyes  were  setled  on  her  painted  eyes, 
Jove  blushing  smil'd,  the  picture  smil'd  againe; 
Jove  spoke  to  her,  and  in  her  heart  did  rise 
Loves  amours,  but  the  picture  did  disdaine 

To  love  the  god,  Jove  would  have  stole  a  kisse, 

But  Juno  being  by,  denyed  him  this. 

When  all  the  rest  beheld  this  counterfeit,       ) 
They  knew  the  substance  was  of  rarer  price:  ) 
Some  gaz'd  upon  her  face,  on  which  did  waite 
As  messengers,  her  two  celestiall  eyes; 

Eyes  wanting  fire  did  give  a  lightning  flame,  ) 

How  much  more  would  her  eyes  mans   sences    tame?  f 


1  Point  of  contact  between  Love's  Martyr  and  the  Sonnets  of  1609.    Cp.  note 
2,  p.  34- 

2  Cp.  the  sensual  line  of  the  Dramatis  Personae,  p.  253. 


Rosaliri s  Complaint.  367 

Then  all  the  Gods  and  Goddesses  did  decree, 
In  humble  maner  to  intreat  of  Jove 
And  every  power  upon  his  bended  knee, 
Shewd  faithfull  service  in  dame  Natures  love, 

Intreating  him  to  pacific  his  Ire, 

And  raise  another  Phoenix  of  new  fire. 

Her  picture  from  Joves  eyes  hath  banisht  Hate, 
And  Mildnesse  plaind  the  furrowes  of  his  brow, 
Her  painted  shape  hath  chastised  debate, 
And  now  to  pleasure  them  he  makes  a  vow: 

Then  thus  Jove  spake,  tis  pittie  she  should  die, 

And  leave  no  ofspring  of  her  Progenie. 

Nature  go  hie  thee,  get  thee  Phoebus  chaire, 
Cut  through  the  skie,  and  leave  Arabia, 
Leave  that  il  working  peece  of  fruitlesse  ayre, 
Leave  me  the  plaines  of  white  Brytania, 

These  countries  have  no  fire  to  raise  that  flame, 

That  to  this  Phoenix  bird  can  yeeld  a  name. 

There  is  a  country  Clymat  fam'd  of  old, 
That  hath  to  name  delightsome  Paphos  He, 
Over  the  mountaine  tops  to  trudge  be  bold, 
There  let  thy  winged  Horses  rest  awhile: 

Where  in  a  vale  like  Ciparissus  grove, 

Thou  shalt  behold  a  second  Phoenix  love. 

A  champion  country  full  of  fertill  Plaines, 
Green  grassie  Medowes,  little  prettie  Hils, 
Aboundant  pleasure  in  this  place  remaines, 


368  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

And  plenteous  sweetes  this  heavenly  clymat  filles: 
Faire  flowing  bathes  that  issue  from  the  rockes, 
Aboundant  heards  of  beasts  that  come  by  flockes. 

High  stately  Caedars,  sturdie  bigge  arm'd  Okes, 
Great  Poplers,  and  long  trees  of  Libanon, 
Sweete  smelling  Firre  that  frankensence  provokes, 
And  Pine  apples  from  whence  sweet  juyce  doth  come: 
The  sommer-blooming  Hauthorne;  under  this 
Faire  Venus  from  Adonis  stole  a  kisse. 

Fine  Thickets  and  rough  Brakes  for  sport  and  pleasure, 
Places  to  hunt  the  light-foote  nimble  Roe: 
These  groves  Diana  did  account  her  treasure, 
And  in  the  cold  shades,  oftentimes  did  goe 

To  lie  her  downe,  faint,  \vearv  on  the  ground, 
Whilest  that  her  Nimphs  about  her  daunst  a  round. 

A  quire  of  heavenly  Angels  tune  their  voyces, 
And  counterfeit  the  Nightingale  in  singing, 
At  which  delight  some  pleasure  she  rejoyces, 
And  Plenty  from  her  cell  her  gifts  is  bringing: 

Peares,  Apples,  Plums,  and»the  red  ripe  Cherries, 
Sweet  Strawberries  with  other  daintie  berries. 

Here  haunt  the  Satyres  and  the  Driades, 
The  Hamadriades  and  pretie  Elves, 
That  in  the  groves  with  skipping  many  please, 
And  runne  along  upon  the  water  shelves: 

Heare  Mermaides  sing,  but  with  Ulysses  eares, 
The  country  Gallants  do  disdaine  their  teares. 


Rosaliri s  Complaint.  369 


The  Crocadile  and  hissing  Adders  sting, 
May  not  come  neere  this  holy  plot  of  ground, 
No  Nightworme  in  this  continent  may  sing, 
Nor  poison-spitting  Serpent  may  be  found: 

Here  Milke  and  Hon}'  like  two  rivers  ran, 

As  fruitefuil  as  the  land  of  Canaan. 

What  shall  I  say?  their  Orchards  spring  with  plentie, 

The  Gardens  smell  like  Floras  paradice, 

Bringing  increase  from  one  to  number  twentie, 

As  Lycorice  and  sweet  Arabian  spice: 

No  place  is  found  under  bright  heavens  fair  blisse 
To  bear  the  name  of  Paradise  but  this. 

Hard  by  a  running  streame  or  crystall  fountaine, 
Wherein  rich  Orient  pearle  is  often  found, 
Environ'd  with  a  high  and  steepie  mountaine, 
A  fertill  soile  and  fruitful  plot  of  ground, 

There  shalt  thou  find  true  Honors  lovely  Squire,     \ 
That  for  this  Phoenix  keepes  Prometheus  fire.  ) 


His  bower  wherein  he  lodgeth  all  the  night, 
Is  fram'd  of  Caedars  and  high  loftie  Pine, 
I  made  his  house  to  chastice  thence  despight, 
And  fram'd  it  like  this  heavenly  roofe  of  mine: 
His  name  is  Libcrall  honor,  and  his  hart, 
Aymes  at  true  faithfull  service  and  desart. 

Looke  on  his  face,  and  in  his  browes  doth  sit, 
Bloud  and  sweete  Mercie  hand  in  hand  united, 
Bloud  to  his  foes,  a  president  most  fit 


1  The  Turtle  Dove  or  the  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  Masque. 
24 


370  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 

For  such  as  have  his  gentle  humour  spited: 

His  Haire  is  curl'd  by  nature  mild  and  meeke, 
Hangs  carelesse  downe  to  shrowd  a  blushing  cheeke, 

Give  him  this  Ointment  to  annoint  his  Head, 
This  precious  Balme  to  lay  unto  his  feet, 
These  shall  direct  him  to  this  Phoenix  bed, 
Where  on  a  high  hill  he  this  Bird  shall  meet: 

And  of  their  Ashes  by  my  doome  shal  rise, 

Another  Phoenix  her  to  equalize. 

This  said  the  Gods  and  Goddesses  did  applaud, 
The  Censure  of  this  thundring  Magistrate, 
And  Nature  gave  him  everlasting  laud, 
And  quickly  in  the  dayes  bright  Coach  she  gate 

Downe  to  the  earth,  she's  whirled  through  the  ayre; 

Love  joyne  these  fires,  thus   Venus  made  her  prayer. 


An  Introduction  to  the  Prayer.1 

GUide  thou  great  Guider  of  the  Sunne  and  Moone, 
Thou  elementall  favourer  of  the  Night, 
My  undeserved  wit,  wit  sprong  too  soone, 
To  give  thy  greatnesse  everie  gracious  right: 

Let  Pen,  Hand,  Wit  and  undeserving  tongue, 
Thy  praise  and  honor  sing  in  everie  song. 

In  my  poore  prayer  guide  my  Hand  aright, 
Guide  my  dull  Wit,  guide  all  my  dulled  Senses, 
Let  thy  bright  Taper  give  me  faithfull  light, 
And  from  thy  Booke  of  life  blot  my  offences: 

Then  arm'd  with  thy  protection  and  thy  love, 
He  make  my  prayer  for  thy  Turtle-dove, 


1  The  prayer  is  given  on  p.  15. 


Rosaliri s  Complaint.  371 


TO  THOSE  OF  LIGHT  BELEEFE. 


You  gentle  favourers  of  excelling  Muses, 
And  gracers  of  all  Learning  and  Desart, 
You  whose  Conceit  the  deepest  worke  peruses, 
Whose  judgements  still  are  governed  by  Art: 

Reade  gently  what  you  reade,  this  next  conceit, 
Fram'd  of  pure  love,  abandoning  deceit. 

And  you  whose  dull  imagination, 

And  blind  conceited  Error  hath  not  knowne, 

Of  Herbes  and  Trees  true  nomination, 

But  thinke  them  fabulous  that  shall  be  showne; 

Learne  more,  search  much,  and  surely  you  shall  find 
Plaine  honest  Truth  and  Knowledge  comes  behind. 

Then  gently  [gentle  Reader]  do  thou  favour, 
And  with  a  gracious  looke  grace  what  is  written, 
With  smiling  cheare  peruse  my  homely  labour, 
With  Envies  poisoned  spitefull  looke  not  bitten: 

So  shalt  thou  cause  my  willing  thought  to  strive, 
To  adde  more  Honey  to  my  new-made  Hive, 


372 


Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


A  meeting  Dialogue-wise  between  Na- 

ture,  the  Phoenix,  and  the  Turtle  Dove. 


Nature.        \  LI  haile  faire  Phoenix,  whither  art  thou  flying? 

-/"V  Why  in  the  hot  Sunne  dost  thou  spread  thy  wings? 

More  pleasure  shouldst  thou  take  in  cold  shades  lying? 

And  for  to  bathe  thyselfe  in  wholsome  Springs, 

Where  the  woods  feathered  quier  sweetely  sings: 

Thy  golden  Wings  and  thy  breasts  beauteous  Eie, 
Will  fall  away  in  Phoebus  royaltie. 


Phoenix.     O  stay  me  not,  I  am  no  Phaznix  I, 
And  if  I  be  that  bird,  I  am  defaced, 
Upon  the  Arabian  mountaines  I  must  die, 
And  never  with  a  poore  young  Turtle  graced;2 
Such  operation  in  me  is  not  placed: 

What  is  my  Beautie  but  a  painted  wal, 
My  golden  spreading  Feathers  quickl}'  fal. 


Nature.      Why  dost  thou  shead  thy  Feathers,  kill  thy  Heart, 
Weep  out  thine  Eyes,  and  staine  thy  golden  Face? 
Why  dost  thou  of  the  worlds  woe  take  a  part, 
And  in  relenting  tears  thy  selfe  disgrace? 
Joyes  mirthful  Tower  is  thy  dwelling  place:3 
All  Birdes  for  vertue  and  excelling  beautie, 
Sing  at  thy  reverend  feet  in  Love  and  Dutie, 


1  The  Sonnets  of  1609,  a  dismantled  Masque, 

2  The  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  Masque. 

3  The  play  a  comedy. 


Rosaliris  Complaint.  373 

Oh  how  thou  feed'st  me  with  my  Beauties  praising!          Phoenix. 
O  how  thy  Praise  sounds  from  a  golden  Toung! 

0  how  thy  Toung  nrr  Vertues  would  be  raising! 
And  raising  me  thou  dost  corrupt  thy  song: 
Thou  seest  not  Honie  and  Poison  mixt  among; 

Thou  not'st  my  Beautie  with  a  jealous  looke, 
But  dost  not  see  how  I  do  bayte  my  hooke. 

Tell  me,  O  tell  me,  for  I  am  thy  friend,  Nature. 

1  am  Dame  Nature  that  first  gave  thee  breath,1 
That  from  Jove\s  glorious  rich  seate  did  descend, 
To  set  my  Feete  upon  this  lumpish  earth: 
What  is  the  cause  of  thy  sad  sullen  Mirth? 

Hast  thou  not  Beautye,  Vertue,  Wit  and  Favour: 
What  other  graces  would'st  thou  crave  of  Nature? 

What  is  my  Beauty  but  a  vading  Flower?  Phoenix. 

Werein  men  reade  their  deep-conceived  Thrall,      [  2 

Alluring  twentie  Gallants  in  an  hower, 

To  be  as  servile  vassalls  at  my  Call? 

My  sunne-bred  lookes  their  Senses  do  exhall: 

But  (o  my  griefe)  where  my  faire  Eyes  would  love, 
Foule  bleare-eyed  Envie  doth  my  thoughts  reprove. 

What  is  my  Vertue  but  a  Tablitorie: 

Which  if  I  did  bestow  would  more  increase? 

What  is  my  wit  but  an  inhumane  glorie: 

That  to  my  kind  deare  friends  would  proffer  peace? 

But  O  vaine  Bird,  give  ore  in  silence,  cease: 

Malice  perchaunce  doth  hearken  to  thy  words, 
That  cuts  thy  threed  of  Love  with  twentie  swords. 


1  Cp.  note  3,  p.  249. 

2  Cp.  last  line  of  Son.  150,  p.  173. 

3  She  longs  to  be  a  play,  not  merely  love  Sonnets. 


374 


Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


Nature.     Tell  me  (O  Mirrour)  of  our  earthly  time, 
Tell  me  sweete  Phcenix  glorie  of  mine  age, 
Who  blots  thy  Beauty  with  foule  Envies  crime, 
And  locks  thee  up  in  fond  Suspitions  cage?1 
Can  any  humane  heart  beare  thee  such  rage? 

Daunt  their  proud  stomacks  with  thy  piercing  Eye, 
Unchaine  Loves  sweetnesse  at  thy  libertie. 

Phoenix.     What  is't  to  bath  me  in  a  wholesome  Spring, 
Or  wash  me  in  a  cleere,  deepe,  running  Well, 
When  I  no  vertue  from  the  same  do  bring, 
Nor  of  the  balmie  water  beare  a  smell? 
It  better  were  for  me  mongst  Crowes  to  dwell,  [billing, 
Then  flocke  with  Doves,  when  Doves  sit  alwayes 
And  waste  my  wings  of  gold,  my  Beautie  killing. 

Nature.      lie  chaine  foule  Envy  to  a  brazen  Gate, 

And  place  deepe  Malice  in  a  hollow  Rocke, 
To  some  blacke  desert  Wood  He  banish  Hate, 
And  fond  Suspicion  from  thy  sight  He  locke: 
These  shall  not  stirre,  let  anie  Porter  knocke. 

Thou  art  but  yong,  fresh,  greene,  and  must  not  passe, 
But  catch  the  hot  Sunne  with  thy  steeled  glasse. 

Phoenix.     That  Sunne  shines  not  within  this  Continent, 

That  with  his  warme  raves  can  my  dead  Bloud  chearish, 
Grosse  cloudie  Vapours  from  this  Aire  is  sent, 
Not  hot  reflecting  Beames  my  heart  to  nourish. 
O  Beautie,  I  do  feare  me  thou  wilt  perish: 

Then  gentle  Nature  let  me  take  my  flight, 
But  ere  I  passe,  set  Envie  out  of  sight. 


1  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 


Rosalins  Complaint. 

lie  conjure  him,  and  raise  him  from  his  grave, 
And  put  upon  his  head  a  punishment: 
Nature  thy  sportive  Pleasure  meanes  to  save, 
He  send  him  to  perpetuall  banishment, 
Like  to  a  totterd  Furie  ragd  and  rent: 

He  baffle  him,  and  blind  his  Jealous  eye, 
That  in  thy  actions  Secrecie  would  prye. 


375 

Nature. 


He  conjure  him,  He  raise  him  from  his  Cell, 
lie  pull  his  Eyes  from  his  conspiring  head, 
He  locke  him  in  the  place  where  he  doth  dwell; 
lie  starve  him  there,  till  the  poore  slave  be  dead, 
That  on  the  poisonous  Adder  oft  hath  fed: 

These  threatnings  on  the  Helhound  I  will  lay, 
But  the  performance  beares  the  greater  sway. 


Stand  by  faire  Phoenix,  spread  thy  Wings  of  gold, 
And  daunt  the  face  of  Heaven  with  thine  Eye, 
Like  Jnnos  bird  thy  Beautie  do  unfold, 
And  thou  shalt  triumph  ore  thine  enemie: 
Then  thou  and  I  in  Phoebus  coach  will  flie, 

Where  thou  shalt  see  and  taste  a  secret  Fire, 
That  will  adde  spreading  life  to  thy  Desire. 


Arise  thou  bleare-ey'd  Enrie  from  thy  bed, 
Thy  bed  of  Snakie  poison  and  corruption, 
Unmaske  thy  big-swolne  Cheekes  with  poyson  red, 
For  with  thee  I  must  trie  Conclusion, 
And  plague  thee  with  the  Worlds  confusion. 
I  charge  thee  by  my  power  to  appeare, 
And  bv  Celestiall  warrant  to  draw  neare. 


1  Cp.  all  of  p.  265. 


376 


Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


Phoenix.      O  what  a  mistie  Dampe  breakes  from  the  ground, 
Able  it  selfe  to  infect  this  noysome  Aire: 
As  if  a  cave  of  Toades  themselves  did  wound, 
Or  poysoned  Dragons  fell  into  dispaire, 
Hels  damned  sent  with  this  may  not  compare, 
And  in  this  foggie  cloud  there  doth  arise 
A  damned  Feend  ore  me  to  tyrannize. 

Nature.      He  shall  not  touch  a  Feather  of  thy  wing, 
Or  ever  have  Authoritie  and  power, 
As  he  hath  had  in  his  days  secret  prying, 
Over  thy  calmie  Lookes  to  send  a  shower: 
He  place  thee  now  in  secrecies  sweet  bower, 
Where  at  thy  will  in  sport  ar\d  dallying, 
Spend  out  thy  time  in  Amarous  discoursing. 


Phoenix.      Looke  Nurce,  looke  Nature  how  the  Villaine  sweates, 
His  big-swolne  Eyes  will  fall  unto  the  ground, 
With  fretting  anguish  he  his  blacke  breast  beates, 
As  if  he  would  true  harted  minds  confound: 
O  keepe  him  backe,  his  sight  my  heart  doth  wound: 
O  Envie  it  is  thou  that  mad'st  me  perish, 
For  want  of  that  true  Fire  my  heart  should  nourish, 

Nature.      But  I  will  plague  him  for  his  wickednesse, 
Envie  go  packe  thee  to  some  forreine  soyle, 
To  some  desertfull  plaine  or  Wildernesse, 
Where  savage  Monsters  and  wild  beasts  do  toyle, 
And  with  inhumane  Creatures  keep  a  coyle. 
Be  gon  I  say,  and  never  do  returne, 
Till  this  round-compast  world  with  fire  do  burne. 


Rosaliri s  Complaint.  377 

What  is  he  gone?  is  Envie  packt  away?  Phcenix. 

Then  one  fowle  blot  is  mooved  from  his  Throne, 

That  my  poore  honest  Thoughts  did  seeke  to  slay: 

Away  fowle  griefe,  and  over-heavie  Mone, 

That  do  ore  charge  me  with  continuall  grones, 

Will  you  not  hence?  then  with  downe-falling  teares, 
He  drowne  my  selfe  in  rippenesse  of  my  Years. 

Fie  peevish  Bird,  what  art  thou  franticke  mad?  Nature. 

Wilt  thou  confound  thy  selfe  with  foolish  Griefe? 
If  there  be  cause  or  meanes  for  to  be  had, 
Thy  Nurse  and  nourisher  will  find  reliefe:       • 
Then  tell  me  all  thy  accidents  in  briefe; 

Have  I  not  banisht  Envy  for  thy  sake? 

I  greater  things  for  thee  ile  undertake. 

Envie  is  gone  and  banisht  from  my  sight,  Phoenix. 

Banisht  for  ever  comming  any  more: 

But  in  Arabia  burnes  another  Light, 

A  dark  dimme  Taper  that  I  must  adore, 

This  barren  Countrey  makes  me  to  deplore: 
It  is  so  saplesse  that  the  very  Spring, 
Makes  tender  new-growne  Plants  be  with'ring. 

The  noisome  Aire  is  growne  infectious, 
The  very  Springs  for  want  of  Moisture  die, 
The  glorious  Sunne  is  here  pestiferous, 
No  hearbes  for  Phisicke  or  sweet  Surgeric* 
No  balme  to  cure  hearts  inward  maladie: 

No  gift  of  Nature,  she  is  here  defaced, 

Heart-curing  Balsamum  here  is  not  placed. 

1  The  Turtle  Dove  or  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  Masque. 

2  Cp.  note  2,  p.  382. 


378 


Shake-spectre  England's  Ulysses, 


Nature.      Is  this  the  fumme  and  substance  of  thy  woe? 

Is  this  the  Anker-hold  unto  thy  bote? 

Is  this  thy  Sea  of  Griele  doth  overflow? 

Is  this  the  River  sets  thy  ship  aflote? 

Is  this  the  Lesson  thou  hast  learn'd  by  rote? 
And  is  this  all?  and  is  this  plot  of  Ground 
The  substance  of  the  Theame  doth  thee  confound? 

Plicenix.     This  is  the  Anker-hold,  the  Sea,  the  River, 
The  Lesson  and  the  substance  of  my  Song, 
This  is  the  Rocke  my  Ship  did  seeke  to  shiver, 
And  in  this  ground  with  Adders  was  I  stung,  ) 
And  in  a  lothsome  pit  was  often  flung:  j  * 

My  Beautie  and  my  Vertues  captivate, 
To  Love,  dissembling  Love  that  I  did  hate.2 

Nature.      Cheare  up  thy  spirit  Phoenix,  prune  thy  wings, 
And  double-gild  thy  Fethers  for  my  newes; 
A  Nightingale  and  not  a  Raven  sings, 
That  from  all  blacke  contention  will  excuse 
Thy  heavy  thoughts,  and  set  them  to  peruse 

Another  Clymat,  where  thou  maist  expresse, 
A  plot  of  Paradice  for  worthinesse. 

Jove  in  divine  divinesse  of  his  Soule, 

That  rides  upon  his  firie  axaltree, 

That  with  his  Mace  doth  humane  flesh  controule, 

When  of  mans  deedes  he  makes  a  Registrie, 

Loving  the  good  for  singularitie: 

With  a  vail'd  Count'nance  and  a  gracious  Smile, 
Did  bid  me  plant  my  Bird  in  Paphos  He. 


1  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 

2  Cp.  note  3,  p.  373. 


Rosalin  s  Complaint.  379 

What  ill  divining  Planet  did  presage,  Phcenix. 

My  timelesse  birth  so  timely  brought  to  light? 
What  fatal  Comet  did  his  wrath  engage, 
To  work  a  harmelesse  Bird  such  worlds  despight, 
Wrapping  my  dayes  blisse  in  blacke  fables  night?1 
No  Planet  nor  no  Comet  did  conspire 
My  downefall,  but  foule  Fortunes  wrathful  ire. 

What  did  my  Beautie  move  her  to  disdaine? 

Or  did  my  Vertues  shadow  all  her  Blisse? 

That  she  should  place  me  in  a  desart  Plaine, 

And  send  forth  Envic  with  a  Judas  kisse, 

To  sting  me  with  a  Scorpions  poisoned  hisse? 

From  my  first  birth-right  for  to  plant  me  heare,     ) 
Where  I  have  alwaies  fed  on  Griefe  and  Feare.       j  * 

Raile  not  gainst  Fortunes  sacred  Deitie,  Nature. 

In  youth  thy  vertuous  patience  she  hath  tryed, 

From  this  base  earth  shee'le  lift  the  up  on  hie, 

Where  in  Contents  rich  Chariot  thou  shalt  ride, 

And  never  with  Impatience  to  abide: 

Fortune  will  glorie  in  thy  great  renowne, 
And  on  thy  feathered  head  will  set  a  crowne. 

T'was  time  to  come,  for  I  was  comfortlesse,  Phoenix. 

And  in  my  Youth  have  bene  Infortunate: 
This  He  of  Paphos  I  do  hope  will  blesse, 
And  alter  my  halfe-rotten  tottering  state, 
My  hearts  Delight  was  almost  runiate. 

In  this  rich  lie  a  Turtle  had  his  nest, 

And  in  a  Wood  of  gold  tooke  up  his  rest. 


1The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Certain  labyrinth. 


380 


Shake-speare  England *s  Ulysses, 


Nature.     Fly  in  this  Chariot,  and  come  sit  by  me, 
And  we  will  leave  this, ill  corrupted  Land, 
We'le  take  our  course  through  the  blew  Azure  skie, 
And  set  our  feet  on  Paphos  golden  sand. 
There  of  that  Turtle  Dove  we'le  understand: 
And  visit  him  in  those  delightfull  plaines, 
Where  Peace  conjoyn'd  with  Plenty  still  remaines, 

Phoenix.      I  come,  I  come,  and  now  farewell  that  strond, 
Upon  whose  craggie  rockes  my  Ship  was  rent, 
Your  ill  beseeming  follies  made  me  fond, 
And  in  a  vastie  Cell  I  up  was  pent,1 
Where  my  fresh  blooming  Beauty  I  have  spent. 

O  blame  your  selves  ill  nurtred  cruell  Swaines,  ) 
That  fild  my  scarlet  Glorie  full  of  Staines.  ) 

Nature.     Welcome  immortal  Bewtie,  we  will  ride 
Over  the  Semi-circle  of  Europa, 
And  bend  our  course  where  we  will  see  the  Tide, 
That  parts  the  Continent  of  Ajfrica, 
Where  the  great  Cham  governes  Tartar  ia: 

And  when  the  starrie  Curtaine  vales  the  night, 
In  Paphos  sacred  He  we  meane  to  light. 


1  The  1609  arrangement  of  the  Sonnets,  a  Cretan  labyrinth. 

2  Cp.  all  of  pp.  351  and  352. 

Hi^We  now  skip  many  weary  pages  of  Lore's  Martyr — bringing  the  reader 
down  to  the  meeting  of  the  Phoenix  with  the  Turtle  Dove.  Dr.  Grosart's  com- 
plete edition  of  Love's  Martyr  will  be  found  in  the  transactions  of  the  Neiv 
Shak.  Soc.,  1878. 


Rosaliri s  Complaint. 


[ENTER  THE  TURTLE  DOVE.]1 


But  what  sad-mournefull  drooping  soule  is  this, 
Within  whose  watry  eyes  sits  Discontent, 
Whose  snaile-pac'd  gate  tels  something  is  amisse: 
From  whom  is  banisht  sporting  Meriment: 

Whose  feathers  mowt  off,  falling  as  he  goes, 
The  perfect  picture  of  hart  pining  woes? 


Phoenix. 


This  is  the  carefull  bird  the  Turtle  Dove, 
Whose  heavy  croking  note  doth  shew  his  griefe, 
And  thus  he  wanders  seeking  of  his  love, 
Refusing  all  things  that  may  yeeld  reliefe: 

All  motions  of  good  turnes,  all  Mirth  and  Joy, 
Are  bad,  fled,  gone,  and  falne  into  decay. 


Nature. 


Is  this  the  true  example  of  the  Heart? 

Is  this  the  Tutor  of  faire  Constancy?'2' 

Is  this  Loves  treasure,  and  Loves  pining  smart, 

Is  this  the  substance  of  all  honesty? 

And  comes  he  thus  attir'd,  alas  poore  soule, 
That  Destines  foule  wrath  should  thee  controule. 


Phoenix. 


See  Nourse,  he  stares  and  lookes  me  in  the  face, 
And  now  he  mournes,  worse  then  he  did  before, 
He  hath  forgot  his  dull  slow  heavy  pace, 
But  with  swift  gate  he  eyes  us  more  and  more: 
O  shall  I  welcome  him,  and  let  me  borrow 
Some  of  his  griefe  to  mingle  with  my  sorrow. 


1  Allegory  for  the  Dramatis  Personae  of  the  Masque. 
*  Cp.  note  3,  p.  33. 


382 


Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


Nature.      Farwell  faire  bird,  He  leave  you  both  alone, 
This  is  the  Dove  you  long'd  so  much  to  see, 
And  this  will  prove  companion  of  your  mone, 
An  Umpire  of  all  true  humility: 

Then  note  my  Phoenix,  what  there  may  ensue, 
And  so  I  kisse  my  bird.     A  due,  Adue. 

Phcenix.     Mother  farewell;  and  now  within  his  eyes, 
Sits  sorrow  clothed  in  a  sea  of  teares, 
And  more  and  more  the  billowes  do  arise: 
Pale  Griefe  halfe  pin'd  upon  his  brow  appeares, 
His  feathers  fade  away,  and  make  him  looke, 
As  if  his  name  were  writ  in  Deaths  pale  booke. 

Turtle.       O  stay  poore  Turtle,  whereat  hast  thou  gazed, 

At  the  eye-dazling  Sunne,  whose  sweete  reflection. 
The  round  encompast  heavenly  world  amazed? 
O  no,  a  child  of  Natures  true  complexion,1 
The  perfect  Phanix  of  rariety, 
For  wit,  for  vertue,  and  excelling  beauty. 


Phaznix. 


Haile  map  of  sorrow:2      Tur.  Welcome  Cupid's  child, 
Let  me  wipe  off  those  teares  upon  thy  cheekes, 
That  stain'd  thy  beauties  pride,  and  have  defil'd 
Nature  it  selfe,  that  so. usurping  seekes 

To  sit  upon  thy  face,  for  He  be  partener, 
Of  thy  harts  wrapped  sorrow  more  hereafter. 


1  Cp.  note  3,  p.  249. 

8  The  Masque  is  mutilated  or  dismembered,  hence  Love's  Martyr. 


Rosaliri s  Complaint.  383 

Natures  faire  darling,  let  me  kneel  to  thee  Turtle. 

And  offer  up  my  true  obedience, 

And  sacredly  in  all  humility, 

Crave  pardon  for  presumptions  foule  offence: 

Thy  lawne-snow-colour'd  hand  shall  not  come  neare 

My  impure  face,  to  wipe  away  one  teare. 

My  teares  are  for  my  Turtle  that  is  dead, 
My  sorrow  springs  from  her  want  that  is  gone, 
My  heavy  note  sounds  for  the  soule  that's  fled, 
And  I  will  dye  for  htm  left  all  alone: 

I  am  not  living,  though  I  seeme  to  go, 

Already  buried  in  the  grave  of  wo. 

Why  I  have  left  Arabia  for  thy  sake,  Phoenix. 

Because  those  fires  have  no  working  substance, 
And  for  to  find  thee  out  did  undertake: 
Where  on  the  mountaine  top  we  may  advance 

Our  fiery  alter;  let  me  tell  thee  this, 

Solamen  miseris  socios  habuisse  doloris. 

Come  poore  lamenting  soule,  come  sit  by  me, 
We  are  all  one,  thy  sorrow  shall  be  mine, 
Fall  thou  a  teare,  and  thou  shalt  plainly  see, 
Mine  eyes  shall  answer  teare  for  teare  of  thine: 

Sigh  thou,  He  sigh,  and  if  thou  give  a  grone, 

I  shall  be  dead  in  answering  of  thy  mone. 


Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


Turtle.       Loves  honorable  Friend,  one  grone  of  yours, 
Will  rend  my  sicke-love-pining  hart  asunder, 
One  sigh  brings  teares  from  me  like  April/  showers, 
Procur'd  by  Sommers  hote  loud  cracking  thunder: 
Be  you  as  mery  as  sweet  mirth  may  be, 
He  grone  and  sigh,  both  for  your  selfe  and  me. 

Phcenix.     Thou  shalt  not  gentle  Turtle,  I  will  beare 

Halfe  of  the  burdenous  yoke  thou  dost  sustaine, 
Two  bodies  may  with  greater  ease  outweare 
A  troublesome  labour,  then  He  brooke  some  paine, 
But  tell  me  gentle  Turtle,  tell  me  truly 
The  difference  betwixt  false  Loveand  true  Sinceritie. 

Turtle.       That  shall  I  briefly,  if  youle  give  me  leave, 
False  love  is  full  of  Envie  and  Deceit, 
With  cunning  shifts  our  humours  to  deceive, 
Laying  downe  poison  for  a  sugred  baite, 
Alwayes  inconstant,  false  and  variable, 
Delighting  in  fond  change  and  mutable. 

True  love,  is  loving  pure,  not  to  be  broken, 
But  with  an  honest  eye,  she  eyes  her  lover, 
Not  changing  variable,  nor  never  shoken 
With  fond  Suspition,  secrets  to  discover, 

True  love  will  tell  no  lies,  nor  ne're  dissemble, 
But  with  a  bashfull  modest  feare  will  tremble. 


Rosaliri s  Complaint. 


385 


False  love  puts  on  a  Maske  to  shade  her  folly, 
True  love  goes  naked  wishing  to  be  seene, 
False  love  will  counterfeite  perpetually, 
True  love  is  Troths  sweete  emperizing  Queene: 
This  is  the  difference,  true  Love  is  a  Jewell, 
False  love,  hearts  tyrant,  inhumane,  and  cruell, 


What  may  we  wonder  at?  O  where  is  learning? 
Where  is  all  difference  twixt  the  good  and  bad? 
Where  is  Ape  lies  art?  where  is  true  cunning? 
Nay  where  is  all  the  vertue  may  be  had? 

Within  my  Turtles  bosome,  she  refines,  ) 

** 

More  then  some  loving  perfect  true  devines.  ) 


Phoenix. 


Thou  shalt  not  be  no  more  the  7>/r//^-Dove, 
Thou  shalt  no  more  go  weeping  al  alone, 
For  thou  shalt  be  my  selfe,  my  perfect  Love, 
Thy  griefe  is  mine,  thy  sorrow  is  my  mone, 

Come  kisse  me  sweetest  sweete,  O  I  do  blesse 
This  gracious  luckie  Sun-shine  happinesse. 


How  may  I  in  all  gratefulnesse  requite, 

This  gracious  favor  offred  to  thy  servant? 

The  time  affordeth  heavinesse  not  delight, 

And  to  the  times  appoint  weele  be  observant: 

Command,  O  do  commaund,  what  ere  thou  wilt, 
My  hearts  bloud  for  thy  sake  shall  straight  be  spilt. 


Turtle. 


Cp.  the  sensual  line  of  the  Dramatis  Personae,  p.  24. 


386 


Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


Phoenix.      Then  I  command  thee  on  thy  tender  care, 
And  chiefe  obedience  that  thou  owst  to  me, 
That  thou  especially  (deare  Bird)  beware 
Of  impure  thoughts,  or  uncleane  chastity: 
For  we  must  wast  together  in  that  fire, 
That  will  not  burne  but  by  true  Loves  desire. 

Turtle.       A  spot  of  that  foule  monster  neare  did  staine, 
These  drooping  feathers,  nor  I  never  knew 
In  what  base  filthy  clymate  doth  remaine 
That  spright  incarnate;  and  to  tell  you  true, 
I  am  as  spotlesse  as  the  purest  whight, 
Cleare  without  staine,  of  envy,  or  despight. 


Phoenix.      Then  to  yon  next  adjoyning  grove  we'le  flye, 

And  gather  sweete  wood  for  to  make  our  flame, 
And  in  a  manner  sacrincingly, 
Burne  both  our  bodies  to  revive  one  name:1 
And  in  all  humblenesse  we  will  intreate 
The  hot  earth  parching  Sunne  to  lend  his 


Turtle.       Why  now  my  heart  is  light,  this  very  doome 
Hath  banisht  sorrow  from  my  pensive  breast: 
And  in  my  bosome  there  is  left  no  roome, 
To  set  blacke  melancholy,  or  let  him  rest; 

He  fetch  sweete  mirrhe  to  burne,  and  licorice, 
Sweete  Juniper,  and  straw  them  ore  with  spice. 

Phoenix.      Pile  up  the  wood,  and  let  us  invocate 

His  great  name  that  doth  ride  within  his  chariot, 
And  guides  the  dayes  bright  eye,  let's  nominate 


1  The  return  of  Ulysses  a  "star-like"  rising,  cp.  the  acrostic  at   the  termina- 
tion of  the  Dramatis  Personse,  p.  24. 


Rosalin  s  Complaint. 


387 


Some  of  his  blessings,  that  he  well  may  wot, 
Our  faithfull  service  and  humility, 
Offer' d  unto  his  highest  Deiety. 

Great  God  Apollo,  for  thy  tender  love, 
Thou  once  didst  beare  to  wilful  Phaeton, 
That  did  desire  thy  chariots  rule  above, 
Which  thou  didst  grieve  in  hart  to  thinke  upon: 
Send  thy  hot  kindling  light  into  this  wood, 
That  shall  receive  the  Sacrifice  of  bloud. 


For  thy  sweete  Daphnes  sake  thy  best  beloved, 
And  for  the  Harpe  receiv'd  of  Mercury, 
And  for  the  Muses  of  thee  favored, 
Whose  gift  of  wit  excels  all  excellency: 

Send  thy  hot  kindling  fire  into  this  wood, 
That  shall  receive  the  Sacrifice  of  bloud. 


Turtle. 


For  thy  sweet  fathers  sake  great  Jupiter, 
That  with  his  thunder-bolts  commands  the  earth, 
And  for  Latonas  sake  thy  gentle  mother, 
That  first  gave  Phoebus  glories  lively  breath: 
Send  thy  hot  kindling  light  into  this  wood, 
That  shall  receive  the  sacrifice  of  bloud. 


P ha?  nix. 


Stay,  stay,  poore  Turtle,  o  we  are  betraid, 
Behind  yon  little  bush  there  sits  a  spy, 
That  makes  me  blush  with  anger,  halfe  afraid, 
That  in  our  motions  secrecy  would  pry: 

I  will  go  chide  with  him,  and  drive  him  thence, 
And  plague  him  for  presumptions  foule  offence, 


Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


Turtle.       Be  not  affraid,  it  is  the  Pcllican, 

Looke  how  her  yong-ones  make  her  brest  to  bleed, 
And  drawes  the  bloud  foorth,  do  the  best  she  can, 
And  with  the  same  their  hungry  fancies  feede, 
Let  her  alone  to  vew  our  Tragedy, 
And  then  report  our  Love  that  she  did  see. 

See  beauteous  Phoenix  it  begins  to  burne, 
O  blessed  Phoebus,  happy,  happy  light, 
Now  will  I  recompence  thy  great  good  turne, 
And  first  (deare  bird)  lie  vanish  in  thy  sight, 

And  thou  shalt  see  with  what  a  quicke  desire, 
He  leape  into  the  middle  of  the  fire. 

Phoenix.      Stay  Turtle  stay,  for  I  will  first  prepare; 

Of  my  bones  must  the  Princely  Phvnix  rise, 
And  ift  be  possible  thy  bloud  wele  spare, 
For  none  but  for  my  sake,  dost  thou  despise 
This  frailty  of  thy  life,  o  live  thou  still, 
And  teach  the  base  deceitfull  world  Loves  will, 


Turtle.       Have  I  come  hither  drooping  through  the  woods, 
And  left  the  springing  groves  to  seeke  for  thee? 
Have  I  forsooke  to  bathe  me  in  the  flouds, 
And  pin'd  away  in  carefull  misery? 

Do  not  deny  me  Phoenix  I  must  be 
A  partner  in  this  happy  Tragedy. 

Phoenix.      O  holy,  sacred,  and  pure  perfect  fire, 

More  pure  then  that  ore  which  faire  Dido  mones, 
'More  sacred  in  my  loving  kind  desire, 


Rosalin '  s  Compla  int.  389 

Then  that  which  burnt  old  Esons  aged  bones, 
Accept  into  your  ever  hallowed  flame, 
Two  bodies,1  from  the  which  may  spring  one  name.2 

O  sweet  perfumed  flame,  made  of  those  trees,  Turtle. 

Under  the  which  the  Muses  nine  have  song 

The  praise  of  vertuous  maids  in  misteries, 

To  whom  the  faire-fac'd  Nymphes  did  often  throng: 

Accept  my  body  as  a  Sacrifice 

Into  your  flame,  of  whom  one  name  may  rise.2 

0  wilfulnesse,  see  how  with  smiling  cheare,  Phcfnix. 
My  poore  deare  hart  hath  flong  himselfe  to  thrall, 

Looke  what  a  mirthfull  countenance  he  doth  beare. 
Spreading  his  wings  abroad,  and  joyes  withall: 

Learne  them  corrupted  world,  learne,  heare,  and  see, 

Friendships  unspotted  true  sincerity. 

1  come  sweet  Turtle,  and  with  my  bright  wings, 
I  will  embrace  thy  burnt  bones  as  they  lye, 

I  hope  of  these  another  Creature  springs,  ) 

That  shall  possesse  both  our  authority:     f  3 
I  stay  to  long,  o  take  me  to  your  glory, 
And  thus  I  end  the  Turtle  Doves  true  story. 

Finis.      R.  C. 


1  The  poem  of  The  Pluvnix  and  Turtle  and  the  Sonnets  of  1609. 

2  The  return  of  Ulysses  a  "star-like  rising,"  cp.  the  acrostic  at    the  termina- 
tion of  the  Dramatis  Personae,  p.  24. 

3  The  Masque  of  Love's  Labor's  Won. 


390  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses, 


Conclusion. 

GEntle  conceivers  of  true  meaning  Wit, 
Let  good  Experience  judge  what  I  have  writ, 
For  the  Satyricall  fond  applauded  vaines, 
Whose  bitter  worme-wood  spirite  in  some  straines, 
Bite  like  the  Curres  of  ^gypt  those  that  love  them, 
Let  me  alone,  I  will  be  loth  to  move  them, 
For  why,  when  mightie  men  their  wit  do  prove, 
How  shall  I  least  of  all  expect  their  love? 
Yet  to  those  men  I  gratulate  some  paine, 
Because  they  touch  those  that  in  art  do  faine. 
But  those  that  have  the  spirit  to  do  good, 
Their  whips  will  never  draw  one  drop  of  bloud: 
To  all  and  all  in  all  that  view  my  labour, 
Of  every  judging  sight  I  crave  some  favour 
At  least  to  reade,  and  if  you  reading  find, 
A  lame  leg'd  staffe,  tis  lamenesse  of  the  mind 
That  had  no  better  skill:  yet  let  it  passe, 
For  burdnous  lodes  are  set  upon  an  Asse. 
From  the  sweet  fire  of  perfumed  wood,    I 
Another  princely  Phoenix  upright  stood:  j 
Whose  feathers  purified  did  yeeld  more  light, 
Then  her  late  burned  mother2  out  of  sight, 
And  in  her  heart  restes  a  perpetuall  love, 
Sprong  from  the  bosome  of  the  Turtle-Dove. 
Long  may  the  new  uprising  bird  increase, 
Some  humors  and  some  motions  to  release, 
And  thus  to  all  I  offer  my  devotion, 
Hoping  that  gentle  minds  accept  my  motion. 

Finis  R.  C 


1  Shake-speare's  poem  of  The  Pheenix  and  Turtle  Dove. 

2  The  dialogue  in  Love's  Martyr,  a  play  by  example  for  the  Sonnet  Masque. 


Loves  Martyr;  or,  Rosaliris  Complaint.  391 


HEREAFTER 

FOLLOW   DIVERSE 

Poeticall  Essaies  on  the  former  Sub- 
ject; viz:  the   Turtle  and  Phoenix. 

TDone  by  the  best  and  chiefest  of  our 
moderne  writers,  with  their  names  sub- 
scribed to   their  particular  workes: 
never  before  extant. 

And  (now  first)  consecrated  by  them  all  generally, 

to  the  love  and  merite  of  the  true-noble  Knight, 
Sir  John  Salisburie. 

Dignum  laude  virum  Musa  vetat  mort. 


Anchor  a  Spei. 

MDCI. 


392  Shake-speare  England 's  Ulysses^ 


THE  PHOENIX  AND 
TURTLE  DOVE. 

(WILLIAM  SHAKE-SPEARE'S  WILL.) 


'(This  poem,  containing  the  Dramatis 

Personae  of  the  Sonnets,  is  given 

on  pp.  257-265  inclusive.) 


Loves  Martyr;  or,  Rosaliri s  Complaint.          393 


(WITNESS. 


The  following  poems  signed  by  Mar 
ston,  Chapman  and  Jonson  con- 
stitute   the    three    requisite 
witnesses   to  the   will;1 
they  serve  no  oth- 
er  purpose. 

1  Cp.  Son.  6-Lvn.,  p.  31,  and  Son.  48-cxLiii.,  p.  73.) 


394  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 


A  narration  and  description  of  a 

most  exact  wondrous  creature,  arising 

out  of  the  Phoenix  and  Turtle 

Doves  ashes.1 


The  description  of  this  Perfection. 

DAres  then  thy  too  audaucious  sense 
Presume,  define  that  boundlesse  Ens, 

That  amplest  thought  transcendeth? 
O  yet  vouchsafe  my  Muse,  to  greete 
That  wondrous  rarenesse,  in  whose  sweete 

All  praise  begins  and  endeth. 
Divinest  Beautie?  that  was  slightest, 
That  adorn'd  this  wondrous  Brightest, 

Which  had  nought  to  be  corrupted. 
In  this,  Perfection  had  no  meane 
To  this,  Earths  purest  was  uncleane 

Which  vertue  even  instructed. 
By  it  all  Beings  deck'd  and  stained, 
Ideas  that  are  idly  fained 

Onely  here  subsist  invested. 
Dread  not  to  give  strain 'd  praise  at  all, 
No  speech  is  H}rperbolicall, 

To  this  perfection  blessed. 

Thus  close  my  Rimes,  this  all  that  can  be  sayd, 
This  wonder  never  can  be  flattered. 

To  Perfection. 
A  Sonnet. 

OFt  have  I  gazed  with  astonish'd  eye, 
At  monstrous  issues  of  ill  shaped  birth, 
When  I  have  scene  the  Midwife  to  old  earth, 
Nature  produce  most  strange  deformitie. 

1  The  above  is  tinsLove'sMartyr  heading  of  the  Marston  poem  given  on  p.  254. 


Rosaliri s  Complaint.  395 

So  have  I  marveld  to  observe  of  late, 

Hard  favor'd  Feminines  so  scant  of  faire, 

That  Maskes  so  choicely,  sheltred  of  the  aire, 
As  if  their  beauties  were  not  theirs  by  fate. 

But  who  so  weake  of  observation, 

Hath  not  discern'd  long  since  how  vertues  wanted, 
How  parcimoniously  the  heavens  have  scanted, 

Our  chiefest  part  of  adornation. 

But  now  I  cease  to  wonder,  now  I  find 

The  cause  of  all  our  monstrous  penny-showes: 
Now  I  conceit  from  whence  wits  scarc'tie  growes, 
Hard  favour'd  features,  and  defects  of  mind. 

Nature  long  time  hath  stor'd  up  vertue,  fairenesse. 
Shaping  the  rest  as  foiles  unto  this  Rarenesse. 


Perfectioni  Hymmis. 

WHat  should  I  call  this  creature, 
Which  now  is  growne  unto  maturitie? 
How  should  I  blase  this  feature 

As  firme  and  constant  as  Eternitie? 
Call  it  Perfection?     Fie! 

Tis  perfecter  then  brightest  names  can  light  it: 
Call  it  Heavens  mirror?     I. 

Alas,  best  attributes  can  never  right  it. 
Beauties  resistlesse  thunder? 

All  nomination  is  too  straight  of  sence: 
Deepe  Contemplations  wonder? 

That  appellation  give  this  excellence. 
Within  all  best  confin'd, 

(Now  feebler  Genius  end  thy  slighter  riming) 
kSST^l-  N°  Suberbes,*  all  is  Mind, 
n^en"'ant)l^c  ^s  ^arre  Irom  spot,  as  possible- defining. 

Iiabet  nostria 

nielior  fars  a-  J 0/111 

niifius  in  Hit's 
nulla  jars  ex- 
tra animwn. 


396  Shake-speare  England '  s  Ulysses, 


N 


Peristeros:  or  the  male  Turtle. 

Ot  like  that  loose  and  partie-liver'd  Secfl 

Of  idle  Lovers,  that  (as  different  Lights, 
On  colour'd  subjects,  different  hewes  reflect;) 

Change  their  Affections  with  their  Mistris  Sights, 
That  with  her  Praise,  or  Dispraise,  drowne,  or  flote, 
And  must  be  fed  with  fresh  Conceits,  and  Fashions; 
Never  waxe  cold,  but  die:  love  not,  but  dote: 

"Loves  fires,  staid  Judgements  blow,  not  humorous 

Passions, 
Whose  Loves  upon  their  Lovers  pomp  depend, 

And  quench  as  fast  as  her  Eyes  sparkle  twinkles, 
"(Nought  lasts  that  doth  to  outward  worth  contend, 
"Al  Love  in  smooth  browes  born,  is  tomb'd  in  wrink- 
les.) 

The  Turtle.    But  like  the  consecrated  *Bird  of  love, 
The  Phcenix.      Whose  whole  lifes  hap  to  his  *sole-mate  alluded, 

Whome  no  prowd  flockes  of  other  Foules  could  move, 

But  in  her  selfe  all  compaine  concluded. 
She  was  to  him  th'  Analisde  World  of  pleasure, 

Her  firmenesse  cloth'd  him  in  varietie: 
Excesse  of  all  things,  he  joyd  in  her  measure, 
Mourn'd  when  she  mourn'd,  and  dieth  when  she  dies. 
Like  him  I  bound  th'  instinct  of  all  my  powers, 

In  her  that  bounds  the  Empire  of  desert, 
And  Time  nor  Change  (that  all  things  else  devoures, 

But  truth  eterniz'd  in  a  constant  heart) 
Can  change  me  more  from  her,  then  her  from  merit, 
That  is  my  forme,  and  gives  my  being,  spirit. 

George  Chapman. 


Rosaliri s  Complaint.  397 


Praludium. 

WE  must  sing-  too?  what  Subject  shal  we  chuse? 
Or  whose  great  Name  in  Poets  Heaven  use, 
For  the  more  Countenance  to  our  Active  Muse? 

Hercules?  alasse  his  bones  are  yet  sore, 
With  his  old  earthly  Labors;  /'  exact  more 
Of  his  dull  Godhead,  were  Sinne:  Lets  implore 

Phoebus?  No:      Tend  thy  Cart  still.      Envious  Day 
S/ia/!  not  give  out,  tJiat  we  have  made  thee  stay, 
And  foundred  thy  Jiot  Teame,  to  tune  our  Lay. 

Nor  will  we  beg  of  tliee,  Lord  of  the  Vine, 
To  raise  our  spirites  witJi  thy  conjuring  Wine, 
In  the  green  circle  of  thy  Ivy  twine. 

Pallas,  nor  tliee  we  call  on,  Mankind  Maide, 

That  (at  thy  birth}  inad'st  the  poore  Smith  afraide, 

Who  with  his  Axe  thy  Fathers  Mid-wife  plaide. 

Go,  crampe  dull  Mars,  ligJit  Venus,  when  he  snorts, 
Or  with  thy  Tribade  Trine,  invent  new  sports, 
Thou,  nor  their  loosenesse  witJt   our  Making  sorts. 

Let  the  old  Boy  your  sonne  ply  his  old  Taske 
Turne  the  stale  Prologue  to  sonic  painted  Maske, 
If  is  Absence  in  our  Verse  is  all  ic>e  aske. 

Hermes  the  cheater,  cannot  niixe  with  us, 
TJwugli  lie  would  steale  Jiis  sisters  Pegasus, 
And  rifle  him;  or  pawne  his  Petasus, 


398  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

Nor  all  the  Ladies  of  the  Thespian  Lake, 

{Though  they  were  crusht  into  one  formed  could  make 

A  Beaut}7  of  that  Merit,  that  should  take 

Our  Muse  up  by  Commission:     No,  we  bring 
Our  owne  true  Fire;  Now  our  thought  takes  wing 
And  now  an  Epode  to  deep  eares  we  sing. 


Epos. 

Ot  to  know  Vice  at  all,  and  keepe  true  state, 

"Is   Vertue;  and  not  Fate: 
"Next  to  that   Vertue,  is,  to  know   Vice  well, 

"And  her  blacke  spight  expell. 
Which  to  effecl  (since  no  brest  is  so  sure, 

Or  safe,  but  shee'l  procure 
Some  way  of  entrance)  we  must  plant  a  guard 

Of  Thoughts,  to  watch  and  ward 
At  th'  Eye  and  Rare,  (the  Ports  unto  the  Mind;) 

That  no  strange  or  unkind 
Object  arrive  there,  but  the  Heart  (our  spie) 

Give  knowledge  instantly. 
To  wakefull  Reason,  our  Affections  King: 

Who  (in  th'  examining) 
Will  quickly  taste  the  Treason,  and  commit 

Close,  the  close  cause  of  it. 
"Tis  the  securest  Pollicie  we  have, 

"To  make  our  Sense  our  Slave. 
But  this  faire  course  is  not  embrac'd  by  many; 

By  many?  scarce  by  any: 
For  either  our  Affections  do  rebel  1, 

Or  else  the  Sentinel/, 
(That  shal  ring  larum  to  the  Heart}  doth  sleepe, 

Qr  some  great  Thought  doth  keepe 


Rosaliri s  Complaint.  399 

Backe  the  Intelligence,  and  falsely  sweares 

They'r  base,  and  idle  Feares, 
Whereof  the  loyall  Conscience  so  complaines 

Thus  by  these  subtill  traines, 
Do  severall  Passions  still  invade  the  Mind, 

And  strike  our  Reason  blind: 
Of  which  usurping  ranke,  some  have  thought  Love, 

The  first;  as  prone  to  move 
Most  frequent  Tumults,  Horrors,  and  Unrests, 

In  our  enflamed  brests. 
But  this  doth  from  their  cloud  of  Error  grow, 

Which  thus  we  overblow. 
The  thing  they  here  call  Love,  is  blind  Desire, 

Arm'd  with  Bow,  Shafts,  and  Fire; 
Inconstant  like  the  Sea,  of  whence  'tis  borne, 

Rough,  swelling,  like  a  Storme: 
\Vith  whome  who  failes,  rides  on  the  surge  of  Feare, 

And  boiles  as  if  he  were 
In  a  continuall  Tempest.      Now  true  Love 

No  such  effects  doth  prove: 
That  is  an  Essence  most  gentile,  and  fine. 

Pure,  per  feel;  nay  divine: 
It  is  a  golden  Chaine  let  down  from  Heaven, 

Whose  linkes  are  bright,  and  even 
That  fals  like  Sleepe  on  lovers;  and  combines 

The  soft  and  sweetest  Minds 
In  equal  knots:  This  beares  no  Brands  nor  Darts 

To  murder  different  harts, 
But  in  a  calm  and  God-like  unitie, 

Preserves  Coinmunitie. 
O  who  is  he  that  (in  this  peace)  enjoyes 

Th'  Elixir  of  all  joyes? 
(A  forme  more  fresh  then  are  the  Eden  bowers, 

And  lasting  as  her  flowers: 
Richer  then  Time,  and  as  Times  Vertue  rare, 

Sober,  as  saddest  Care, 


400  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses, 

A  fixed  Thought,  an  Eye  untaught  to  glance;) 

Who  (blest  with  such  high  chance) 
Would  at  suggestion  of  a  steepe  Desire 

Cast  himselfe  from  the  spire 
Of  all  his  Happinesse?     But  soft:  I  heare 

Some  vicious  Foole  draw  neare, 
That  cries  we  dreame;  and  sweares,  there's  no  such  thing 

As  this  chaste  Lore  we  sing. 
Peace  Lux-uric >  thou  art  like  one  of  those 

Who  (being  at  sea)  suppose 
Because  they  move,  the  Continent  doth  so: 

No  (  Vice)  we  let  thee  know, 
Though  thy  wild  Thoughts  with  Sparrowes  wings  do  flie, 

"Turtles  can  chastly  die; 
And  yet  (in  this  t'expresse  our  selfe  more  cleare) 

We  do  not  number  here 
Such  Spirites  as  are  onely  continent, 

Because  Lusts  meanes  are  spent: 
Or  those,  who  doubt  the  common  mouth  of  Fame, 

And  for  their  Place,  or  Name, 
Cannot  so  safely  sinne;  Their  CJiastitie 

Is  meere  Necessities 
Nor  meane  we  those,  whom   Voives  and  Conscience 

Have  fild  with  Abstinence : 
(Though  we  acknowledge  who  can  so  abstaine, 

Makes  a  most  blessed  gaine: 
"He  that  for  love  of  goodnesse  hateth  ill, 

"is  more  Crowne-worthy  still, 
"Then  he  which  for  sinnes  Penaltie  forbeares, 

His  Heart  sinnes,  though  he  feares.) 
But  we  propose  a  person  like  our  Dore, 

Grac'd  with  a  Phwnix  love: 
A  beaut}'  of  that  cleare  and  sparkling  Light, 

Would  make  a  Day  of  Night, 
And  turne  the  blackest  sorrowes  to  bright  joyes: 

Whose  Od'rous  breath  destroves 


Rosaliri s  Complaint.  401 

All  taste  of  Bitternesse,  and  makes  the  Ayre 

As  sweete  as  she  is  faire; 
A  Bodie  so  harmoniously  composde, 

As  if  Nature  disclosde 
All  her  best  Symmetric  in  that  one  Feature: 

O,  so  divine  a  Creature 
Who  could  be  false  too?  chiefly  when  he  knowes 

How  onely  she  bestowes 
The  wealth}'  treasure  of  her  love  in  him; 

Making  his  Fortunes  swim 
In  the  full  floud  of  her  admir'd  perfection? 

What  savage,  brute  Affection, 
Would  not  be  fearefull  to  offend  a  Dame 

Of  this  excelling  frame? 
Much  more  a  noble  and  right  generous  Mind, 

(To  vertuous  moodes  enclin'd) 
That  knowes  the  weight  of  Guilt:1     He  will  refraine 

From  thoughts  of  such  a  straine: 
And  to  his  Sence  object  this  Sentence  ever, 

Man  may  securely  sinne,  but  safely  never? 

Ben  Johnson. 


The  Phoenix  Analysde.2 

NOw,  after  all,  let  no  man 
Receive  it  for  a  Fable, 
If  a  Bird  so  amiable, 
Do  turne  into  a  Woman. 

Or  by  our  (  Turtles)  Augure 
That  Natures  fairest  Creature, 
Prove  of  his  Mistris'  Feature, 

But  a  bare  Type  and  Figure. 


1  Cp.  the  Dramatis  Personae  of  Hamlet,  p.  201, 

2  Cp.  notes,  p.  249. 


26 


402  Shake-speare  England's  Ulysses^ 


SPlendor!     O  more  then  mortall, 
For  other  formes  come  short  all 
Of  her  illustrate  brightnesse, 
As  farre  as  Sinne's  from  lightnesse. 

Her  wit  as  quicke,  and  sprightfull 
As  fire;  and  more  delightfull 
Then  the  stolne  sports  of  Lovers, 
When  night  their  meeting  covers. 

Judgement  (adorned  with  Learning) 
Doth  shine  in  her  discerning, 
Cleare  as  a  naked  vestall 
Closde  in  an  orbe  of  Christall. 

Her  breath  for  sweete  exceeding 
The  Phoenix  place  of  breeding, 
But  mixt  with  sound,  transcending 
All  Nature  of  commending. 

Alas:  then  whither  wade  I, 
In  thought  to  praise  this  Ladie, 
When  seeking  her  renowning, 
My  selfe  am  so  neare  drowning? 

Retire,  and  say;  Her  Graces 
Are  deeper  then  their  Faces: 
Yet  shee's  nor  nice  to  shew  them, 
Nor  takes  she  pride  to  know  them. 

Ben:  Johnson^ 


FINIS. 


[APPENDIX  II.] 


SIR  FRANCIS  BACON  HIS  APOLOGIE, 

IN 

CERTAINE  IMPUTATIONS, 

CONCERNING 

THE  LATE  EARLE  OF  ESSEX. 


WRITTEN  TO 

' 

THE  RIGHT  HONORABLE  HIS  VERY  GOOD  LORD  THE 
EARLE  OF  DEVONSHIRE, 

LORD  LIEUTENANT  OF  IRELAND. 


LONDON: 

PRINTED  FOR  FELIX  NORTON,   AND  ARE  TO   BE  SOLD  IN  PAUL'S  CHURCHYARD 
AT  THE  SIGNE  OF  THE  PAROT. 

1604, 


TO  THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE  HIS 
VERY    GOOD    LORD    THE    EARL   OF   DEVONSHIRE, 

LORD  LIEUTENANT  OF  IRELAND. 


IT  may  please  your  good  Lordship:  I  cannot  be  ignorant,  and 
ought  to  be  sensible,  of  the  wrong  which  I  sustain  in  common 
speech,  as  ii  I  had  been  false  or  unthankful  to  that  noble  but  un- 
fortunate Earl,  the  Earl  of  Essex:  and  for  satisfying  the  vulgar 
sort,  I  do  not  so  much  regard  it;  though  I  love  good  name,  but 
yet  as  an  handmaid  and  attendant  of  honesty  and  virtue.  For 
I  am  of  his  opinion  that  said  pleasantly,  That  it  was  a  shame  to 
him  that  was  a  suitor  to  the  mistress,  to  make  love  to  the  waiting- 
woman;  and  therefore  to  woo  or  court  common  fame  otherwise 
than  it  followeth  upon  honest  courses,  I,  for  my  part,  find  not 
myself  fit  nor  disposed.  But  on  the  other  side,  there  is  no  world- 
ly thing  that  concerneth  myself  which  I  hold  more  dear  than  the 
good  opinion  of  certain  persons;  amongst  which  there  is  none  I 
would  more  willingly  give  satisfaction  unto  than  to  your  Lord- 
ship. First,  because  you  loved  my  Lord  of  Essex,  and  therefore 
will  not  be  partial  towards  me;  which  is  part  of  that  I  desire: 
next,  because  it  hath  ever  pleased  you  to  show  yourself  to  me  an 
honourable  friend,  and  so  no  baseness  in  me  to  seek  to  satisfy 
,you:  and  lastlj',  because  I  know  your  Lordship  is  excellently 
grounded  in  the  true  rules  and  habits  of  duties  and  moralities; 
which  must  be  they  which  shall  decide  this  matter:  wherein  [my 
Lord]  my  defence  needeth  to  be  but  simple  and  brief:  namely, 
that  whatsoever  I  did  concerning  that  action  and  proceeding, 
was  done  in  my  duty  and  service  to  the  Queen  and  the  State;  in 
which  I  would  not  show  myself  false-hearted  nor  faint-hearted 
for  any  man's  sake  living.  For  every  honest  man,  that  hath  his 
heart  well  planted,  will  forsake  his  King  rather  than  forsake  God, 
and  forsake  his  friend  rather  than  forsake  his  King;  and  yet  will 
forsake  any  earthly  commodity,  yea  and  his  own  life  in  some 


2]  Bacon  s  Apology. 

cases,  rather  than  forsake  his  friend.  I  hope  the  world  hath  not 
forgotten  these  degrees,  else  the  heathen  saying,  Amiens  usque  ad 
aras,  shall  judge  them.  And  if  any  man  shall  say  that  I  did 
officiously  intrude  myself  into  that  business,  because  I  had  no 
ordinary  place;  the  like  may  be  said  of  all  the  business  in  effect 
that  passed  the  hands  of  the  learned  counsel,  either  of  State  or 
Revenues,  these  many  years,  wherein  I  was  continually  used. 
For,  as  your  Lordship  may  remember,  the  Queen  knew  her 
strength  so  well,  as  she  looked  her  word  should  be  a  warrant: 
and  after  the  manner  of  the  choicest  princes  before  her,  did  not 
always  tie  her  trust  to  place,  but  did  sometime  divide  private 
favour  from  office.  And  .1  for  my  part,  though  I  was  not  so  un- 
seen in  the  world  but  I  knew  the  condition  was  subject  to  envy 
and  peril;  yet  because  I  knew  again  she  wras  constant  in  her  fav- 
ours, and  made  an  end  where  she  began,  and  specially  because 
she  upheld  me  with  extraordinary  access,  and  other  demonstra- 
tions of  confidence  and  grace,  I  resolved  to  endure  it  in  expecta- 
tion of  better.  But  my  scope  and  desire  is,  that  your  Lordship 
would  be  pleased  to  have  the  honourable  patience  to  know  the 
truth  in  some  particularity  of  all  that  passed  in  this  cause  where- 
in I  had  auy  part,  that  you  may  perceive  how  honest  a  heart  I 
ever  bare  to  my  Sovereign  and  to  my  Country,  and  to  that  Noble- 
man, who  had  so  well  deserved  of  me,  and  so  well  accepted  of 
my  deservings;  whose  fortune  I  cannot  remember  without  much 
grief.  But  for  any  action  of  mine  towards  him,  there  is  nothing 
that  passed  me  in  my  life-time  that  cometh  to  my  remembrance 
with  more  clearness  and  less  check  of  conscience;  for  it  will  ap- 
pear to  your  Lordship  that  I  was  not  only  not  opposite  to  my 
Lord  of  Essex,  but  that  I  did  occupy  the  utmost  of  my  wits,  and 
adventure  my  fortune  with  the  Queen  to  have  reintegrated  his, 
and  so  continued  faithfully  and  industriously  till  his  last  fatal 
impatience  (for  so  I  will  call  it),  after  which  day  there  was  not 
time  to  work  for  him;  though  the  same  my  affection,  when  it 
could  not  work  on  the  subject  proper,  went  to  the  next,  with  no 
ill  effect  towards  some  others,  who  I  think  do  rather  not  know  it 
than  not  acknowledge  it.  And  this  I  will  assure  your  Lordship, 
I  will  leave  nothing  untold  that  is  truth,  for  any  enemy  that  I 


Bacon  s  Apology.  [3 

have  to  add;  and  on  the  other  side,  I  must  reserve  much  which 
makes  for  me,  upon  many  respects  of  dut}7,  which  I  esteem  above 
my  credit:  and  what  I  have  here  set  down  to  your  Lordship,  I 
protest,  as  I  hope  to  have  any  part  in  Gpd's  favour,  is  true. 

It  is  well  known,  how  I  did  many  years  since  dedicate  my  tra- 
vels and  studies  to  the  use  and  (as  I  may  term  it)  service  of  my 
Lord  of  Essex,  which,  I  protest  before  God,  I  did  not,  making  elec- 
tion of  him  as  the  likeliest  mean  of  mine  own  advancement,  but  out 
of  the  humour  of  a  man,  that  ever,  from  the  time  I  had  any  use  of 
reason  (whether  it  were  reading  upon  good  books,  or  upon  the  ex- 
ample of  a  good  father,  or  by  nature)!  loved  ~sy  country  more  than 
was  answerable  to  my  fortune,  and  I  held  at  that  time  my  Lord  to 
be  the  fittest  instrument  to  do  good  to  the  State;  and  therefore  I 
applied  myself  to  him  in  a  manner  which  I  think  happeneth  rarely 
amongst  men:  for  I  did  not  only  labour  carefully  and  industri- 
ously in  that  he  set  me  about,  whether  it  were  matter  of  advice 
or  otherwise,  but  neglecting  the  Queen's  service,  mine  own  for- 
tune, and  in  a  sort  my  vocation,  I  did  nothing  but  devise  and 
ruminate  with  my  selfe  to  the  best  of  my  understanding,  proposi- 
tions and  memorials  of  any  thing  that  might  concern  his  Lord- 
ship's honour,  fortune,  or  service.  And  when  not  long  after  I 
entered  into  this  course,  my  brother  Master  Anthony  Bacon  came 
from  beyond  the  seas,  being  a  gentleman  whose  ability  the  world 
taketh  knowledge  of  for  matters  of  State,  specially  foreign,  I  did 
likewise  knit  his  service  to  be  at  my  Lord's  disposing.  And  on 
the  other  side,  I  must  and  will  ever  acknowledge  my  Lord's  love, 
trust,  and  favour  towards  me;  and  last  of  all  his  liberality,  hav- 
ing infeoffed  me  of  land  which  I  sold  for  eighteen  hundred  pounds 
to  Master  Reynold  Nicholas,  and  I  think  was  more  worth,  and 
that  at  such  a  time,  and  with  so  kind  and  noble  circumstances, 
as  the  manner  was  as  much  as  the  matter;  which  though  it  be 
but  an  idle  digression,  yet  because  I  am  not  willing  to  be  short 
in  commemoration  of  his  benefits,  I  will  presume  to  trouble  your 
Lordship  with  relating  to  you  the  manner  of  it.  After  the  Queen 
had  denied  me  the  Solicitor's  place,  for  the  which  his  Lordship 
had  been  a  long  and  earnest  suitor  on  m}7  behalf,  it  pleased  him 
to  come  to  me  from  Richmond  to  Twicknam  Park,  and  brake  with 


4]  Bacon  s  Apology. 

me,  and  said:  Master  Bacon,  the  Queen  hath  denied  me  yon  place 
for  you,  and  hath  placed  another;  I  know  you  are  the  least  part  of 
your  own  matter,1  but  you  fare  ill  because  you  have  chosen  me 
for  your  mean  and  dependance;  you  have  spent  your  time  and 
thoughts  in  my  matters;  I  die  (these  were  his  very  words)  if  I  do 
not  somewhat  towards  your  fortune:  you  shall  not  deny  to  accept 
a  piece  of  land  which  I  will  bestow  upon  you.  My  answer  I  re- 
member was,  that  for  my  fortune  it  was  no  great  matter;  but  that 
his  Lordship's  offer  made  me  call  to  mind  what  was  wont  to  be 
said  when  I  was  in  France  of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  that  he  was  the 
greatest  usurer  in  France,  because  he  had  turned  all  his  estate 
into  obligations:  meaning  that  he  had  left  himself  nothing,  but 
only  had  bound  numbers  of  persons  to  him.  Now  my  Lord  (said 
1)1  would  not  have  you  imitate  his  course,  nor  turn  your  state 
thus  by  great  gifts  into  obligations,  for  you  will  find  many  bad 
debtors.  He  bade  me  take  no  care  for  that,  and  pressed  it:  where- 
upon I  said:  My  Lord,  I  see  I  must  be  your  homager,  and  hold 
land  of  your  gift;  but  do  you  know  the  manner  of  doing  homage 
in  law?  always  it  is  with  a  saving  of  his  faith  to  the  King  and  his 
other  Lords;  and  therefore,  my  Lord  (said  I),  I  can  be  no  more 
yours  than  I  was,  and  it  must  be  with  the  ancient  savings:  and 
if  I  grow  to  be  a  rich  man,  you  will  give  me  leave  to  give  it  back 
to  some  of  your  unrewarded  followers.  But  to  return:  sure  I  am 
(though  I  can  arrogate  nothing  to  myself  but  that  I  was  a  faith- 
ful remembrancer  to  his  Lordship)  that  while  I  had  most  credit 
with  him  his  fortune  went  on  best.  And  yet  in  two  main  points 
we  always  directly  and  contradictorily  differed,  which  I  will  men- 
tion to  your  Lordship  because  it  giveth  light  to  all  that  followed. 
The  one  was,  I  ever  set  this  down,  that  the  only  course  to  be  held 
with  the  Queen,  was  by  obsequiousness  and  observance;  and  I 
remember  I  would  usually  gage  confidently,  that  if  he  would  take 
that  course  constantly,  and  with  choice  of  good  particulars  to  ex- 
press it,  the  Queen  would  be  brought  in  time  to  Assuerus  ques- 
tion, to  ask,  What  should  be  done  to  the  man  that  the  King-  would 
honour:  meaning  that  her  goodness  was  without  limit,  where  there 

1  This  is  Bacon's  own  expression,  i.  348. — Abbott. 


Bacon  s  Apology.  [5 

was  a  true  concurrance;  which  I  knew  in  her  nature  to  be  true. 
My  Lord  on  the  other  side  had  a  settled  opinion,  that  the  Queen 
could  be  brought  to  nothing  but  by  a  kind  of  necessity  and  au- 
thority; and  I  well  remember,  when  by  violent  courses  at  any  time 
he  had  got  his  will,  he  would  ask  me:  Now  Sir,  whose  principles 
be  true?  and  I  would  again  say  to  him:  My  Lord,  these  courses  be 
like  to  hot  waters,  they  will  help  at  a  pang;  but  if  you  use  them, 
yon  shall  spoil  the  stomach,  and  you  shall  be  fain  still  to  make  them 
stronger  and  stronger,  and  yet  in  the  end  they  will  lesse  their  opera- 
tion; with  much  other  variety,  wherewith  I  used  to  touch  that 
string.  Another  point  was,  that  I  always  vehemently  dissuaded 
him  from  seeking  greatness  by  a  military  dependance,  or  by  a 
popular  dependance,  as  that  which  would  breed  in  the  Queen  jeal- 
ousy, in  himself  presumption,  and  in  the  State  perturbation:  and 
I  did  usually  compare  them  to  Icarus'  two  wings  which  were  join- 
ed on  with  wax,  and  would  make  him  venture  to  soar  too  high, 
and  then  fail  him  at  the  height.  And  I  would  further  say  unto 
him:  My  Lord,  stand  upon  two  feet,  and  fly  not  upon  two  wings. 
The  two  feet  are  the  two  kinds  of  Justice,  commutative  and  dis- 
tributive: use  your  greatness  for  advancing  of  merit  and  virtue, 
and  relieving  wrongs  and  burdens;  you  shall  need  no  other  art  or 
fineness:  but  he  would  tell  me,  that  opinion  came  not  from  my 
mind  but  from  my  robe.  But  it  is  very  true  that  I,  that  never 
meant  to  enthral  myself  to  my  Lord  of  Essex,  nor  any  other  man, 
more  than  stood  with  the  public  good,  did  (though  I  could  little 
prevail)  divert  him  by  all  means  possible  from  courses  of  the 
wars  and  popularity:  for  I  saw  plainly  the  Queen  must  either  live 
or  die;  if  she  lived,  then  the  times  would  be  as  in  the  declination 
of  an  old  prince;  if  she  died,  the  times  would  be  as  in  the  beginning 
of  a  new;  and  that  if  his  Lordship  did  rise  too  fast  in  these 
courses,  the  times  might  be  dangerous  for  him,  and  he  for  them. 
Nay,  I  remember  I  was  thus  plain  with  him  upon  his  voyage  to 
the  Islands,  when  I  saw  every  spring  put  forth  such  actions  of 
charge  and  provocation,  that  I  said  to  him:  My  Lord,  when  I  came 
first  unto  you,  I  took  you  for  a  physician  that  desired  to  cure  the 
diseases  of  the  State;  but  now  I  doubt  you  will  be  like  those  phy- 
sicians which  can  be  content  to  keep  their  patients  low,  because 


6]  Bacon  s  Apology. 

they  would  always  be  in  request:  which  plainness  he  nevertheless 
took  very  well,  as  he  had  an  excellent  ear,  and  was  patientissimus 
vert,  and  assured  me  the  case  of  the  realm  required  it:  and  I  think 
this  speech  of  mine,  and  the  like  renewed  afterwards,  pricked  him 
to  write  that  apology  which  is  in  many  men's  hands. 

But  this  difference  in  two  points  so  main  and  material,  bred  in 
process  of  time  a  discontinuance  of  privateness  (as  it  is  the 
manner  of  men  seldom  to  communicate  where  they  think  their 
courses  not  approved)  between  his  Lordship  and  myself;  so  as 
I  was  not  called  nor  advised  with,  for  some  year  and  a  half  be- 
fore his  Lordship's  going  into  Ireland,  as  in  former  time:  yet 
nevertheless  touching  his  going  into  Ireland,  it  pleased  him  ex- 
pressly and  in  a  set  manner  to  desire  mine  opinion  and  counsel. 
At  which  time  I  did  not  only  dissuade,  but  protest  against  his 
going,  telling  him  with  as  much  vehemency  and  asseveration  as 
I  could,  that  absence  in  that  kind  would  exulcerate  the  Queen's 
mind,  whereby  it  would  not  be  possible  for  him  to  carry  himself 
so  as  to  give  her  sufficient  contentment;  nor  for  her  to  carry  her- 
self so  as  to  give  him  sufficient  countenance:  which  would  be  ill 
for  her,  ill  for  him,  and  ill  for  the  State.  And  because  I  would 
omit  no  argument,  I  remember  I  stood  also  upon  the  difficulty  of 
the  action;  setting  before  him  out  of  histories,  that  the  Irish  was 
such  an  enemy  as  the  ancient  Gauls,  or  Britons,  or  Germans 
were,  and  that  we  saw  how  the  Romans,  who  had  such  discipline 
to  govern  their  soldiers,  and  such  donatives  to  encourage  them, 
and  the  whole  world  in  a  manner  to  levy  them;  yet  when  they 
came  to  deal  with  enemies  which  placed  their  felicity  only  in  lib- 
erty and  the  sharpness  of  their  sword,  and  had  the  natural  and 
elemental  advantages  of  woods,  and  bogs,  and  hardness  of  bod- 
ies, they  ever  found  they  had  their  hands  full  of  them;  and  there- 
fore concluded,  that  going  over  with  such  expectation  as  he  did, 
and  through  the  churlishness1  of  the  enterprise  not  like  to  an- 
swer it,  would  mightily  diminish  his  reputation:  and  many  other 
reasons  I  used,  so  as  I  am  sure  I  never  in  anything  in  my  life- 
time dealt  with  him  in  like  earnestness  by  speech,  by  writing, 
and  by  all  the  means  I  could  devise.  For  I  did  as  plainly  see 

1  curlishness,  in  original. — Abbott. 


Bacon  s  Apology.  [7 

his  overthrow  chained  as  it  were  by  destiny  to  that  journey,  as 
it  is  possible  for  any  man  to  ground  a  judgment  upon  future  con- 
tingents. But  my  Lord,  howsoever  his  ear  was  open,  yet  his 
heart  and  resolution  was  shut  against  that  advice,  whereby  his 
ruin  might  have  been  prevented.  After  my  Lord's  going,  I  saw 
how  true  a  prophet  I  was,  in  regard  of  the  evident  alteration 
which  naturally  succeeded  in  the  Queen's  mind;  and  thereupon  I 
was  still  in  watch  to  find  the  best  occasion  that  in  the  weakness 
of  my  power  I  could  either  take  or  minister,  to  pull  him  out  of 
the  fire  if  it  had  been  possible:  and  not  long  after,  methought  I 
saw  some  overture  thereof,  which  I  apprehended  readily;  a  par- 
ticularity I  think  be1  known  to  very  few,  and  the  which  I  do  the 
rather  relate  unto  your  Lordship,  because  I  hear  it  should  be 
talked,  that  while  my  Lord  was  in  Ireland  I  revealed  some  matter 
against  him,  or  I  cannot  tell  what;  which  if  it  were  not  a  mere 
slander  as  the  rest  is,  but  had  any  though  never  so  little  colour, 
was  surely  upon  this  occasion.  The  Queen  one  daj^  at  Nonesuch, 
a  little  (as  I  remember)  before  Cuffe's  coming  over,  I  attending 
her,  showed  a  passionate  distaste  of  my  Lord's  proceedings  in 
Ireland,  as  if  they  were  unfortunate,  without  judgment,  con- 
temptuous, and  not  without  some  private  end  of  his  own,  and  all 
that  might  be,  and  was  pleased,  as  she  spake  of  it  to  many  that 
she  trusted  least,  so  to  fall  into  the  like  speech  with  me;  where- 
upon I,  who  was  still  awake  and  true  to  my  grounds  which  I 
thought  surest  for  my  Lord's  good,  said  to  this  effect:  Madam,  I 
know  not  the  particulars  of  estate,  and  I  know  this,  that  Princes' 
actions  must  have  no  abrupt  periods  or  conclusions,  but  other- 
wise I  would  think,  that  if  you  had  my  Lord  of  Essex  here  with 
a  white  staff  in  his  hand,  as  my  Lord  of  Leicester  had,  and  con- 
tinued him  still  about  you  for  society  to  yourself,  and  for  an 
honour  and  ornament  to  your  attendance  and  Court  in  the  eyes 
of  your  people,  and  in  the  eyes  of  foreign  Embassadors,  then 
were  he  in  his  right  element:  for  to  discontent  him  as  you  do, 
and  yet  to  put  arms  and  power  into  his  hands,  may  be  a  kind  of 
temptation  to  make  him  prove  cumbersome  and  unruly.  And 

1  So  in  original. — Abbott. 


8]  Bacon  s  Apology. 

therefore  if  you  would  imponere  bonam  clausulam,  and  send  for 
him  and  satisfy  him  with  honour  here  near  you,  if  your  affairs 
which  (as  I  have  said)  I  am  not  acquainted  with,  will  permit  it, 
I  think  were  the  best  way.  Which  course,  your  Lordship  know- 
eth,  if  it  had  been  taken,  then  all  had  been  well,  and  no  contempt 
in  my  Lord's  coming  over,  nor  continuance  of  these  jealousies, 
which  that  employment  of  Ireland  bred,  and  my  Lord  here  in  his 
former  greatness.  Well,  the  next  news  that  I  heard  was,  that 
my  Lord  was  come  over,  and  that  he  was  committed  to  his  cham- 
ber for  leaving  Ireland  without  the  Queen's  license:  this  was  at 
Nonesuch,  were  (as  my  duty  was)  I  came  to  his  Lordship,  and 
talked  with  him  privately  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  he 
asked  mine  opinion  of  the  course  was  taken  with  him;  I  told  him, 
My  Lord,  Nubecula  est,  cito  transibit ;  it  is  but  a  mist:  but  shall 
I  tell  your  Lordship,  it  is  as  mists  are,  if  it  go  upwards,  it  may 
haps  cause  a  shower,  if  downwards,  it  will  clear  up.  And  there- 
fore good  my  Lord  carry  it  so,  as  you  take  away  by  all  means 
all  umbrages  and  distastes  from  the  Queen;  and  specially,  if  I 
were  worthy  to  advise  you  (as  I  have  been  by  yourself  thought, 
and  now  your  question  imports  the  continuance  of  that  opinion) 
observe  three  points:  First,  make  not  this  cessation  or  peace 
which  is  concluded  with  Tyrone,  as  a  service  wherein  you  glory, 
but  as  a  shuffling  up  of  a  prosecution  which  was  not  very 
fortunate.  Next,  represent  not  to  the  Queen  any  necessity  of 
estate,  whereby,  as  by  a  coercion  or  wrench,  she  should  think 
herself  inforced  to  send  you  back  into  Ireland,  but  leave  it  to 
her.  Thirdly,  seek  access  importune,  opportune,  seriously,  sport- 
ingly,  every  way.  I  remember  my  Lord  was  willing  to  hear 
me,  but  spake  very  few  words,  and  shaked  his  head  sometimes, 
as  if  he  thought  I  was  in  the  wrong;  but  sure  I  am,  he  did  just 
contrary  in  every  one  of  these  three  points.  After  this,  during 
the  while  since  my  Lord  was  committed  to  my  Lord  Keeper's, 
I  came  divers  times  to  the  Queen,  as  I  had  used  to  do,  about 
causes  of  her  revenue  and  law  business,  as  is  well  known;  by 
reason  of  which  accesses,  according  to  the  ordinary  charities  of 
Court,  it  was  given  out  that  I  was  one  of  them  that  incensed 
the  Queen  against  my  Lord  of  Essex.  These  speeches,  I  cannot 


Bacon  s  Apology.  [9 

tell,  nor  I  will  not  think,  that  they  grew  any  way  from  her 
Majesty's  own  speeches,  whose  memory  I  will  ever  honour;  if 
they  did,  she  is  with  God,  and  miserum  est  ab  illis  Icedi,  de  quibus 
nonpossis  queri.  But  I  must  give  this  testimony  to  my  Lord  Cecil, 
that  one  time  in  his  house  at  the  Savoy  he  dealt  with  me  directly,  and 
said  to  me,  Cousin,  I  hear  it,  but  I  believe  it  not,  that  you  should  do 
some  ill  office  to  my  Lord  of  Essex;  for  my  part  I  am  merely  pas- 
sive and  not  active  in  this  action,  and  I  follow  the  Queen  and  that 
heavily  and  I  lead  her  not;  my  Lord  of  Essex  is  one  that  in  nat- 
ure I  could  consent  with  as  well  as  with  anyone  living:  the  Queen 
indeed  is  my  Sovereign,  and  I  am  her  creature,  I  may  not  leese 
her,  and  the  same  course  I  would  wish  you  to  take:  whereupon 
I  satisfied  him  how  far  I  was  from  any  such  mind.  And  as  some- 
times it  cometh  to  pass,  that  men's  inclinations  are  opened  more 
in  a  toy,  than  in  a  serious  matter:  A  little  before  that  time,  being 
about  the  middle  of  Michaelmas  term,  her  Majesty  had  a  purpose 
to  dine  at  my  lodge  at  Twicknam  Park,  at  which  time  I  had 
(though  I  profess  not  to  be  a  poet)  prepared  a  sonnet  directly  tend- 
ing and  alluding  to  draw  on  her  Majesty's  reconcilement  to  my 
Lord,  which  I  remember  also  I  showed  to  a  great  person,  and 
one  of  my  Lord's  nearest  friends,  who  commended  it:  this,  though 
it  be  (as  I  said)  but  a  toy,  yet  it  showed  plainly  in  what  spirit  I 
proceeded,  and  that  I  was  ready  not  only  to  do  my  Lord  good 
offices,  but  to  publish  and  declare  myself  for  him;  and  never  was 
so  ambitious  of  an}^  thing  in  my  life-time,  as  I  was  to  have  car- 
ried some  token  or  favour  from  her  Majesty  to  my  Lord;  using 
all  the  art  I  had,  both  to  procure  her  Majesty  to  send,  and  myself 
to  be  the  messenger:  for  as  to  the  former,  I  feared  not  to  allege 
to  her,  that  this  proceeding  toward  my  Lord  was  a  thing  towards 
the  people  very  implausible;  and  therefore  wished  her  Majesty, 
howsoever  she  did,  yet  to  discharge  herself  of  it,  and  to  lay  it 
upon  others;  and  therefore  that  she  should  intermix  her  proceed- 
ing with  some  immediate  graces  from  herself,  that  the  world 
might  take  knowledge  of  her  princely  nature  and  goodness,  lest 
it  should  alienate  the  hearts  of  her  people  from  her.  Which  I 
did  stand  upon,  knowing  very  well  that  if  she  once  relented  to 
send  or  visit,  those  demonstrations  would  prove  matter  of  sub- 


IQ]  Bacons  Apology. 

stance  for  my  Lord's  good.  And  to  draw  that  employment  upon 
myself,  I  advised  her  Majesty;  that  whensoever  God  should  move 
her  to  turn  the  light  of  her  favour  towards  my  Lord,  to  make 
signification  to  him  thereof,  that  her  Majesty,  if  she  did  it  not  in 
person,  would  at  the  least  use  some  such  mean  as  might  not  in- 
title  themselves  to  any  part  of  the  thanks,  as  persons  that  were 
thought  mighty  with  her,  to  work  her,  or  to  bring  her  about;  but 
to  use  some  such  as  could  not  be  thought  but  a  mere  conduct  of 
her  own  goodness:  but  I  could  never  prevail  with  her,  though  I 
am  persuaded  she  saw  plainly  whereat  I  levelled;  but  she  had 
me  in  jealousy,  that  I  was  not  hers  intirely,  but  still  had  inward 
and  deep  respects  towards  my  Lord,  more  than  stood  at  that  time 
with  her  will  and  pleasure.  About  the  same  time  I  remember  an 
answer  of  mine  in  a  matter  which  had  some  affinity  with  my 
Lord's  cause,  which  though  it  grew  from  me,  went  after  about  in 
other's  names.  For  her  Majesty  being  mightily  incensed  with 
that  book  which  was  dedicated  to  my  Lord  of  Essex,  being  a 
story  of  the  first  year  of  King  Henry  the  fourth,  thinking  it  a 
seditious  prelude  to  put  into  the  people's  heads  boldness  and 
faction,  said  she  had  good  opinion  that  there  was  treason  in  it, 
and  asked  me  if  I  could  not  find  an}7  places  in  it  that  might  be 
drawn  within  case  of  treason:  whereto  I  answered:  for  treason 
surely  I  found  none,  but  for  felon}7  very  many.  And  when  her 
Majesty  hastily  asked  me  wherein,  I  told  her  the  author  had 
committed  very  apparent  theft,  for  he  had  taken  most  of  the  sen- 
tences of  Cornelius  Tacitus,  and  translated  them  into  English, 
and  put  them  into  his  text.  And  another  time,  when  the  Queen 
would  not  be  persuaded  that  it  was  his  writing  whose  name  was 
to  it,  but  that  it  had  some  more  mischievous  author,  and  said 
with  great  indignation  that  she  would  have  him  racked  to  produce 
his  author,  I  replied,  Nay  Madam,  he  is  a  Doctor,  never  rack 
his  person,  but  rack  his  stile;  let  him  have  pen,  ink,  and  paper, 
and  help  of  books,  and  be  enjoined  to  continue  the  story  where  it 
breaketh  off,  and  I  will  undertake  by  collecting1  the  stiles  to 
judge  whether  he  were  the  author  or  no.  But  for  the  main  mat- 
ter, sure  I  am,  when  the  Queen  at  any  time  asked  mine  opinion 

1  So  in  original, 


Bacon  s  Apology.  [11 

of  my  Lord's  case,  I  ever  in  one  tenour  said  unto  her;  That  they 
were  faults  which  the  law  might  term  contempts,  because  they 
were  the  transgression  of  her  particular  directions  and  instruc- 
tions: but  then  what  defence  might  be  made  of  them,  in  regard 
of  the  great  interest  the  person  had  in  her  Majesty  favour;  in  re- 
gard of  the  greatness  of  his  place,  and  the  ampleness  of  his  com- 
mission; in  regard  of  the  nature  of  the  business,  being  action  of 
war,  which  in  common  cases  cannot  be  tied  to  strictness  of  in- 
structions; in  regard  of  the  distance  of  place,  having  also  a  sea 
between,  that  demands  and  commands  must  be  subject  to  wind 
and  weather;  in  regard  of  a  counsel  of  State  in  Ireland  which  he 
had  at  his  back  to  avow  his  actions  upon;  and  lastly,  in  regard 
of  a  good  intention  that  he  would  allege  for  himself,  which  I  told 
her  in  some  religions  was  held  to  be  a  sufficient  dispensation  for 
God's  commandments;  much  more  for  Princes':  in  all  these  re- 
gards, I  besought  her  Majesty  to  be  advised  again  and  again, 
how  she  brought  the  cause  into  any  public  question:  nay,  I  went 
further,  for  I  told  her,  my  Lord  was  an  eloquent  and  well-spoken 
man,  and  besides  his  eloquence  of  nature  or  art,  he  had  an  elo- 
quence of  accident  which  passed  them  both,  which  was  the  pity 
and  benevolence  of  his  hearers;  and  therefore  that  when  he  should 
come  to  his  answer  for  himself,  I  doubted  his  words  would  have 
so  unequal  passage  above  theirs  that  should  charge  him,  as 
would  not  be  for  her  Majesty's  honour;  and  therefore  wished  the 
conclusion  might  be,  that  they  might  wrap  it  up  privately  between 
themselves,  and  that  she  would  restore  my  Lord  to  his  former 
attendance,  with  some  addition  of  honour  to  take  away  discon- 
tent. But  this  I  will  never  deny,  that  I  did  show  no  approbation 
generally  of  his  being  sent  back  again  into  Ireland,  both  because 
it  would  have  carried  a  repugnancy  with  my  former  discourse, 
and  because  I  was  in  mine  own  heart  fully  persuaded  that  it  was 
not  good,  neither  for  the  Queen,  nor  for  the  State,  nor  for  him- 
self: and  yet  I  did  not  dissuade  it  neither,  but  left  it  ever  as 
locus  lubricus.  For  this  particularity  I  do  well  remember,  that 
after  your  Lordship  was  named  for  the  place  in  Ireland,  and  not 
long  before  your  going,  it  pleased  her  Majesty  at  Whitehall  to 
speak  to  me  of  that  nomination:  at  which  time  I  said  to  her;  Sure- 


1 2]  Bacons  Apology. 

ly  Madam,  if  you  mean  not  to  employ  my  Lord  of  Essex  thither 
again,  your  Majesty  cannot  make  a  better  choice;  and  was  going 
on  to  show  some  reason;  and  her  Majesty  interrupted  me  with 
great  passion:  Essex!  (said  she);  whensoever  I  send  Essex  back 
again  into  Ireland,  I  will  marry  you,  claim  it  of  me:  whereunto  I 
said;  Well  Madam,  I  will  release  that  contract,  if  his  going  be 
for  the  good  of  your  State.  Immediately  after  the  Queen  had 
thought  of  a  course  (which  was  also  executed)  to  have  somewhat 
published  in  the  Star-chamber,  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  world 
touching  my  Lord  of  Essex  his  restraint,  and  my  Lord  of  Essex 
not  to  be  called  to  it,  but  occasion  to  be  taken  by  reason  of  some 
libels  then  dispersed:  which  when  her  Majesty  propounded  unto 
me,  I  was  utterly  against  it;  and  told  her  plainly,  that  the  people 
would  say  that  my  Lord  was  wounded  upon  his  back,  and  that 
Justice  had  her  balance  taken  from  her,  which  ever  consisted  of 
an  accusation  and  defence,  with  many  other  quick  and  significant 
terms  to  that  purpose:  insomuch  that  I  remember  I  said,  that  my 
Lord  in  foro  Jamcz  was  too  hard  for  her;  and  therefore  wished 
her,  as  I  had  done  before,  to  wrap  it  up  privately.  And  certain- 
ly I  offended  her  at  that  time,  which  was  rare  with  me:  for  I  call 
to  mind,  that  both  the  Christmas,  Lent,  and  Easter  term  follow- 
ing, though  I  came  divers  times  to  her  upon  law  business,  yet 
methought  her  face  and  manner  was  not  so  clear  and  open  to  me 
as  it  was  at  the  first.  And  she  did  directly  charge  me,  that.  I 
was  absent  that  day  at  the  Star-chamber,  which  was  very  true; 
but  I  alleged  some  indisposition  of  body  to  excuse  it:  and  during 
all  the  time  aforesaid,  there  was  altum  silentium  from  her  to  me 
touching  my  Lord  of  Essex  causes. 

But  towards  the  end  of  Easter  term,  her  Majesty  brake  with 
me,  and  told  me  that  she  had  found  my  words  true:  for  that  the  pro- 
ceeding in  the  Star-chamber  had  done  no  good,  but  rather  kindled 
factious  bruits  (as  she  turmed  them)  than  quenched  them,  and 
therefore  that  she  was  determined  now  for  the  satisfaction  of  the 
world,  to  proceed  against  my  Lord  in  the  Star-chamber  by  an 
information  ore  tenus,  and  to  have  my  Lord  brought  to  his  an- 
swer: howbeit  she  said  she  would  assure  me  that  whatsoever  she 
did  should  be  towards  my  Lord  ad  castigationcm,  ct  non  ad  dc- 


Bacon 's  Apology.  [  1 3 

structionem;  as  indeed  she  had  often  repeated  the  same  phrase 
before:  whereunto  I  said  (to  the  end  utterly  to  divert  her), 
Madam,  if  you  will  have  me  speak  to  you  in  this  argument,  I 
must  speak  to  you  as  Friar  Bacon's  head  spake,  that  said  first, 
Time  is,  and  then  Time  was,  and  Time  would  never  be :  for  cer- 
tainly (said  I)  it  is  now  far  too  late,  the  matter  is  cold  and  hath 
taken  too  much  wind;  whereat  she  seemed  again  offended  and 
rose  from  me,  and  that  resolution  for  a  while  continued;  and  after, 
in  the  beginning  of  Midsummer  term,  I  attending  her,  and  finding 
her  settled  in  that  resolution  (which  I  heard  of  also  otherwise), 
she  falling  upon  the  like  speech,  it  is  true  that,  seeing  no  other 
remedy,  I  said  to  her  slightly,  Why,  Madam,  if  you  will  needs 
have  a  proceeding,  you  were  best  have  it  in  some  such  sort  as 
Ovid  spake  of  his  mistress,  Est  illiquid  luce  patent e  minus,  to 
make  a  counsel-table  matter  of  it,  and  there  an  end;  which  speech 
again  she  seemed  to  take  in  ill  part;  but  yet  I  think  it  did  good 
at  that  time,  and  holp  to  divert  that  course  of  proceeding  by  in- 
formation in  the  Star-chamber.  Nevertheless  afterwards  it 
pleased  her  to  make  a  more  solemn  matter  of  the  proceeding;  and 
some  few  days  after,  when1  order  was  given  that  the  matter  should 
be  heard  at  York-house,  before  an  assembly  of  Counsellors,  Peers, 
and  Judges,  and  some  audience  of  men  of  quality  to  be  admitted, 
and  then  did  some  principal  counsellors  send  for  us  of  the  learn- 
ed counsel,  and  notify  her  Majesty's  pleasure  unto  us,  save  that 
it  was  said  to  me  openly  by  one  of  them,  that  her  Majesty  was 
not  yet  resolved  whether  she  would  have  me  forborne  in  the  bus- 
iness or  no.  And  hereupon  might  arise  that  other  sinister  and 
untrue  speech  that  I  hear  is  raised  of  me,  how  I  was  a  suitor  to 
be  used  against  my  Lord  of  Essex  at  that  time:  for  it  is  very  true 
that  I,  that  knew  well  what  had  passed  between  the  Queen  and 
me,  and  what  occasion  I  had  given  her  both  of  distate  and  dis- 
trust in  crossing  her  disposition  by  standing  stedfastly  for  my 
Lord  of  Essex,  and  suspecting  it  also  to  be  a  stratagem  arising 
from  some  particular  emulation,  I  writ  to  her  two  or  three  words  of 
compliment,  signifying  to  her  Majesty,  that  if  she  would  be  pleased 

1  §9  in  original.— /{bbott. 
27 


14]  Bacon  s  Apology. 

to  spare  me  in  my  Lord  of  Essex  cause,  out  of  the  considera- 
tion she  took  of  my  obligation  towards  him,  I  should  reckon  it 
for  one  of  her  highest  favours;  but  otherwise  desiring  her  Majesty 
to  think  that  I  knew  the  degrees  of  duties,  and  that  no  particular 
obligation  whatsoever  to  any  subject  could  supplant  or  weaken  that 
entireness  of  duty  that  I  did  owe  and  bear  to  her  and  her  service; 
and  this  was  the  goodly  suit  I  made,  being  a  respect  that  no  man 
that  had  his  wits  could  have  omitted:  but  nevertheless  I  had  a 
further  reach  in  it,  for  I  judged  that  day's  work  would  be  a  full 
period  of  any  bitterness  or  harshness  between  the  Queen  and  my 
Lord,  and  therefore  if  I  declared  myself  fully  according  to  her 
mind  at  that  time,  which  could  not  do  my  Lord  any  manner  of 
prejudice,  I  should  keep  my  credit  with  her  ever  after,  whereby 
to  do  my  Lord  service.  Hereupon  the  next  news  that  I  heard 
was,  that  we  were  all  sent  for  again,  and  that  her  Majesty's  pleas- 
ure was,  we  all  should  have  parts  in  the  business;  and  the  Lords 
falling  into  distribution  of  our  parts,  it  was  allotted  to  me,  that 
I  should  set  forth  some  undutiful  carriage  of  my  Lord,  in  giving 
occasion  and  countenance  to  a  seditious  pamphlet,  as  it  was  term- 
ed, which  was  dedicated  unto  him,  which  was  the  book  before-men- 
tioned of  King  Henry  the  fourth.  Whereupon  I  replied  to  that 
allotment,  and  said  to  their  Lordships,  that  it  was  an  old  matter, 
and  had  no  manner  of  coherence  with  the  rest  of  the  charge,  be- 
ing matters  of  Ireland,  and  therefore  that  I  having  been  wronged 
by  bruits  before,  this  would  expose  me  to  them  more;  and  it  would 
be  said  I  gave  in  evidence  mine  own  tales.  It  was  answered  again 
with  good  show,  that  because  it  was  considered  how  I  stood  tied 
to  my  Lord  of  Essex,  therefore  that  part  was  thought  fittest  for 
me  which  did  him  least  hurt;  for  that  whereas  all  the  rest  was  mat- 
ter of  charge  and  accusation,  this  only  was  but  matter  of  caveat 
and  admonition.  Wherewith  though  I  was  in  mine  own  mind 
little  satisfied,  because  I  knew  well  a  man  were  better  to  be  charg- 
ed with  some  faults,  than  admonished  of  some  others:  yet  the  con- 
clusion binding  upon  the  Queen's  pleasure  directly  volens  nolens, 
I  could  not  avoid  that  part  that  was  laid  upon  me;  which  part  if 
in  the  delivery  I  did  handle  not  tenderly  (though  no  man  before 
me  did  so  in  so  clear  terms  free  my  Lord  from  all  disloyalty  as  I 


Bacons  Apology.  [15 

did),  that,  your  Lordship  knoweth,  must  be  ascribed  to  the  sup- 
erior duty  I  did  owe  to  the  Queen's  fame  and  honour  in  a  public 
proceeding,  and  partly  to  the  intention  I  had  to  uphold  myself 
in  credit  and  strength  with  the  Queen,  the  better  to  be  able  to  do 
nry  Lord  good  offices  afterwards:  for  as  soon  as  this  day  was  past, 
I  lost  no  time,  but  the  very  next  day  following  (as  I  remember) 
I  attended  her  Majesty,  fully  resolved  to  try  and  put  in  ure  my 
utmost  endeavour,  so  far  as  I  in  my  weakness  could  give  further- 
ance, to  bring  my  Lord  again  speedily  into  Court  and  into  favour; 
and  knowing  (as  I  supposed  at  least)  how  the  Queen  was  to  be 
used,  I  thought  that  to  make  her  conceive  that  the  matter  went 
well  then,  was  the  way  to  make  her  leave  off  there:  and  I  rem- 
ember well,  I  said  to  her,  You  have  now  Madam  obtained  victory 
over  two  things,  which  the  greatest  princes  in  the  world  cannot 
at  their  wills  subdue;  the  one  is  over  fame,  the  other  is  over  a 
great  mind:  for  surely  the  world  be  now,  I  hope,  reasonably  well 
satisfied;  and  for  my  lord,  he  did  show  that  humiliation  towards 
your  Majesty,  as  I  am  persuaded  he  was  never  in  his  life-time 
more  fit  for  your  favour  than  he  is  now:  therefore  if  your  Majesty 
will  not  mar  it  by  lingering,  but  give  over  at  the  best,  and  now 
you  have  made  so  good  a  full  point,  receive  him  again  with  tend- 
erness, I  shall  then  think  that  all  that  is  past  is  for  the  best. 
Whereat  I  remember  she  took  exceeding  great  contentment,  and 
and  did  often  iterate  and  put  me  in  mind,  that  she  had  ever  said 
that  her  proceedings  should  be  ad  rcparationem  and  not  ad  ruinam, 
as  who  saith,  that  now  was  the  time  I  should  well  perceive  that 
that  saying  of  hers  should  prove  true.  And  further  she  willed 
me  to  set  down  in  writing  all  that  passed  that  day.  I  obeyed  her 
commandment,  and  within  some  few  days  brought  her  again  the 
narration,  which  I  did  read  unto  her  at  two  several  afternoons:  and 
when  I  came  to  that  part  that  set  forth  my  Lord's  own  answer 
(which  was  my  principal  care),  I  do  well  bear  in  mind  that  she 
was  extraordinarily  moved  with  it,  in  kindness  and  relenting  to- 
wards my  Lord,  and  told  me  afterwards  (speaking  how  well  I  had 
expressed  my  Lord's  part)  that  she  perceived  old  love  would  not 
easily  be  forgotten:  whereunto  I  answered  suddenly,  that  I  hoped 
she  meant  that  by  herself,  But  in  conclusion  I  did  advise  her, 


1 6]  Bacon  s  Apology. 

that  now  she  had  taken  a  representation  of  the  matter  to  herself, 
that  she  would  let  it  go  no  further:  For  Madam  (said  I)  the  fire, 
blazeth  well  already,  what  should  you  tumble  it?  And  besides, 
it  may  please  you  keep  a  convenience  with  yourself  in  this  case; 
for  since  your  express  direction  was,  there  should  be  no  register 
nor  clerk  to  take  this  sentence,  nor  no  record  or  memorial  made 
up  of  the  proceeding,  why  should  you  now  do  that  popularly, 
which  you  would  not  admit  to  be  done  judicially?  Whereupon 
she  did  agree  that  that  writing  should  be  suppressed;  and  I  think 
there  were  not  five  persons  that  ever  saw  it.  But  from  this  time 
forth,  during  the  whole  latter  end  of  that  summer,  while  the  Court 
was  at  Nonesuch  and  Oatlands,  I  made  it  my  task  and  scope  to 
to  take  and  give  occasion  for  my  Lord's  reintegration  in  his  for- 
tune: which  my  intention  I  did  also  signify  to  my  Lord  as  soon  as 
ever  he  was  at  his  liberty,  whereby  I  might  without  peril  of  the 
Queen's  indignation  write  to  him;  and  having  received  from  his 
Lordship  a  courteous  and  loving  acceptation  of  my  good  will  and 
endeavours,  I  did  apply  it  in  all  my  accesses  to  the  Queen, which 
were  very  many  at  that  time,  and  purposely  sought  and  wrought 
upon  other  variable  pretences,  but  only  and  chiefly  for  that  pur- 
pose. And  on  the  other  side,  I  did  not  forbear  to  give  my  Lord 
from  time  to  time  faithful  advertisement  what  I  found,  and  what 
I  wished.  And  I  drew  for  him  by  his  appointment  some  letters 
to  her  Majesty,  which  though  I  knew  well  his  Lordship's  gift  and 
stile  was  far  better  than  mine  own,  yet  because  he  required  it, 
alleging  that  by  his  long  restraint  he  was  grown  almost  a  stranger 
to  the  Queen's  present  conceits,  I  was  ready  to  perform  it:  and 
sure  I  am  that  for  the  space  of  six  weeks  or  two  months  it  pros- 
pered so  well,  as  I  expected  continually  his  restoring  to  his  at- 
tendance. And  I  was  never  better  welcome  to  the  Queen,  nor 
more  made  of,  than  when  I  spake  fullest  and  boldest  for  him:  in 
which  kind  the  particulars  were  exceeding  many;  whereof,  far  an 
example;  I  will  remember  to  your  Lordship  one  or  two:  as  at  one 
time,  I  call  to  mind,  her  Majesty  was  speaking  of  a  fellow  that 
undertook  to  cure,  or  at  least  to  ease  my  brother  of  his  gout,  and 
asked  me  how  it  went  forwards:  and  I  told  her  Majesty  that  at 
the  first  he  received  good  by  it,  but  after  in  the  course  of  his  cure 


Bacon  s  Apology.  [17 

he  found  himself  at  a  stay  or  rather  worse:  the  Queen  said  again, 
I  will  tell  you,  Bacon,  the  error  of  it:  the  manner  of  these  physi- 
cians, and  especially  these  empirics,  is  to  continue  one  kind  of 
medicine,  which  at  the  first  is  proper:  being  to  draw  out  the  ill 
humour,  but  after  they  have  not  the  discretion  to  change  their 
medicine,  but  apply  still  drawing  medicines,  when  they  should 
rather  intend  to  cure  and  corroborate  the  part.  Good  Lord  Mad- 
am (said  I),  how  wisely  and  aptly  can  you  speak  and  discern  of 
physic  ministered  to  the  body,  and  consider  not  that  there  is 
the  like  occasion  of  physic  ministered  to  the  mind:  as  now  in  the 
case  of  my  Lord  of  Essex,  your  princely  word  ever  was  that  you 
intended  ever  to  reform  his  mind;  and  not  ruin  his  fortune:  I  know 
well  you  cannot  but  think  that  you  have  drawn  the  humour  suffi- 
ciently, and  therefore  it  were  more  than  time,  and  it  were  but  for 
doubt  of  mortifying  or  exulcerating,  that  you  did  apply  and  min- 
ister strength  and  comfort  unto  him:  for  these  same  gradations  of 
yours  are  fitter  to  corrupt  than  correct  any  mind  of  greatness. 
And  another  time  I  remember  she  told  me  for  news,  that  my  Lord 
had  written  unto  her  some  very  dutiful  letters,  and  that  she  had 
been  moved  by  them,  and  when  she  took  it  to  be  the  abundance  of 
the  heart,  she  found  it  to  be  but  a  preparative  to  a  suit  for  the 
renewing  of  his  farm  of  sweet  wines:  whereunto  I  replied,  O  Mad- 
am, how  doth  your  Majesty  conster  of  these  things,  as  if  these 
two  could  not  stand  well  together,  which  indeed  nature  hath  plant- 
ed in  all  creatures.  For  there  but  two  sympathies,  the  one  to- 
wards perfection,  other  towards  preservation.  That  to  perfec- 
tion, as  the  iron  contendeth  to  the  loadstone:  that  to  preservation, 
as  the  vine  will  creep  towards  a  stake  or  prop  that  stands  by  it; 
not  for  any  love  to  the  stake,  but  to  uphold  itself.  And  there- 
fore, Madam,  you  must  distinguish:  my  Lord's  desire  to  do  you 
service  is  as  to  his  perfection,  that  which  he  thinks  himself  to  be 
born  for;  whereas  his  desire  to  obtain  this  thing  of  you,  is  but  for 
a  sustentation.  And  not  to  trouble  your  Lordship  with  many 
other  particulars  like  unto  these,  it  was  at  the  self-same  time  that 
I  did  draw,  with  my  Lord's  privity,  and  by  his  appointment,  two 
letters,  the  one  written  as  from  my  brother,  the  other  as  an  an- 
swer returned  from  my  Lord,  both  to  be  by  me  in  secret  manner 


1 8]  Bacons  Apology. 

showed  to  the  Queen,  which  it  pleased  my  Lord  very  strangely  to 
mention  at  the  bar;  the  scope  of  which  were  but  to  represent  and 
picture  forth  unto  her  Majesty  my  Lord's  mind  to  be  such  as  I 
knew  her  Majesty  would  fainest  have  had  it:  which  letters  whoso- 
ever shall  see  (for  they  cannot  now  be  retracted  or  altered,  being 
by  reason  of  my  brother's  or  his  Lordship's  servants'  delivery 
long  since  comen  into  divers  hands)  let  him  judge,  specially  if 
he  knew  the  Queen,  and  do  remember  those  times,  whether  they 
were  not  the  labours  of  one  that  sought  to  bring  the  Queen  about 
for  my  Lord  of  Essex  his  good.  The  troth  is,  that  the  issue  of  all 
his  dealing  grew  to  this,  that  the  Queen,  by  some  slackness  oi 
my  Lord's,  as  I  imagine,  liked  him  worse  and  worse,  and  grew 
more  incensed  towards  him.  Then  she,  remembering  belike  the 
continual  and  incessant  and  confident  speeches  and  courses  that 
I  had  held  on  my  Lord's  side,  became  utterly  alienated  from  me, 
and  for  the  space  of  at  least  three  months,  which  was  between 
Michaelmas  and  New-year's-tide  following,  would  not  as  much  as 
look  on  me,  but  turned  away  from  me  with  express  and  purpose- 
like  discountenance  wheresoever  she  saw  me;  and  at  such  time  as  I 
desired  to  speak  with  her  about  law-business,  ever  sent  me  forth 
very  slight  refusals;  insomuch  as  it  is  most  true,  that  immediate- 
ly after  New-year's-tide  I  desired  to  speak  with  her;  and  being 
admitted  to  her,  I  dealt  with  her  plainly  and  said,  Madam,  I  see 
you  withdraw  your  favour  from  me,  and  now  that  I  have  lost 
many  friends  for  your  sake,  I  shall  leese  you  too:  you  have  put 
me  like  one  of  those  that  the  Frenchmen  call  cnfans  perdus,  that 
serve  on  foot  before  horsemen,  so  have  you  put  me  into  matters 
of  envy  without  place,  or  without  strength;  and  I  know  at  chess 
a  pawn  before  the  king  is  ever  much  played  upon;  a  great  many 
love  me  not,  because  they  think  I  have  been  against  my  Lord  of 
Essex;  and  you  love  me  not,  because  you  know  I  have  been  for 
him:  yet  will  I  never  repent  me,  that  I  have  dealt  in  symplicity 
of  heart  towards  you  both,  without  respect  of  cautions  to  myself; 
and  therefore  vivus  vidensque  pereo.  If  I  do  break  my  neck,  I 
shall  do  it  in  manner  as  Master  Dorrington  did  it,  which  walked 
on  the  battlements  of  the  church  many  days,  and  took  a  view  and 
survey  where  he  should  fall:  and  so  Madam  (said  I)  I  am  not  so 


Bacon  s  Apology.  [19 

simple  but  that  I  take  a  prospect  of  mine  overthrow,  only  I  thought 
I  would  tell  you  so  much,  that  you  may  know  that  it  was  faith 
and  not  folly  that  brought  me  into  it,  and  so  I  will  pray  for  you. 
Upon  which  speeches  of  mine  uttered  with  some  passion,  it  is  true 
her  Majesty  was  exceedingly  moved,  and  accumulated  a  number 
of  kind  and  gracious  words  upon  me,  and  willed  me  to  rest  upon 
this,  Gratia  mea  sufficit,  and  a  number  of  other  sensible  and 
tender  words  and  demonstrations,  such  as  more  could  not  be; 
but  as  touching  my  Lord  of  Essex,  ne  verbum  quidem.  Where- 
upon I  departed,  resting  then  determined  to  meddle  no  more  in 
the  matter;  as  that  that  I  saw  would  overthrow  me,  and  not  be  able 
to  do  him  any  good.  And  thus  I  made  mine  own  peace  with  mine 
own  confidence  at  that  time;  and  this  was  the  last  time  I  saw  her 
Majesty  before  the  eighth  of  February,  which  was  the  day  of  my 
Lord  of  Essex  his  misfortune.  After  which  time,  for  that  I  per- 
formed at  the  bar  in  my  public  service,  your  Lordship  knoweth 
by  the  rules  of  duty  that  I  was  to  do  it  honestly,  and  without 
prevarication;  but  for  any  putting  myself  into  it,  I  protest  before 
God,  I  never  moved  neither  the  Queen,  nor  any  person  living, 
concerning  my  being  used  in  the  service,  either  of  evidence  or 
examination;  but  it  was  merely  laid  upon  me  with  the  rest  of  my 
fellows.  And  for  the  time  which  passed,  I  mean  between  the 
arraignment  and  my  Lord's  suffering,  I  well  remember  I  was  but 
once  with  the  Queen;  at  what  time,  though  I  durst  not  deal  di- 
rectly for  my  Lord  as  things  then  stood,  yet  generally  I  did  both 
commend  her  Majesty's  mercy,  terming  it  to  her  as  an  excellent 
balm  that  did  continually  distil  from  her  sovereign  hands,  and 
made  an  excellent  odour  in  the  senses  of  her  people;  and  not  only 
so,  but  I  took  hardiness  to  extenuate,  not  the  fact,  for  that  I 
durst  not,  but  the  danger,  telling  her  that  if  some  base  or  cruel- 
minded  persons  had  entered  into  such  an  action,  it  might  have 
caused  much  blood  and  combustion:  but  it  appeared  well  they 
were  such  as  knew  not  how  to  play  the  malefactors;  and  some 
other  words  which  I  now  omit.  And  as  for  the  rest  of  the  car- 
riage of  myself  in  that  service,  I  have  many  honourable  witness- 
es that  can  tell,  that  the  next  day  after  my  Lord's  arraignment, 
by  my  diligence  and  information  touching  the  quality  and  nature 


20]  Bacon  s  Apology. 

of  the  offenders,  six  of  nine  were  stayed,  which  otherwise  had 
been  attainted,  I  bringing  their  Lordship's  letter  for  their  say, 
after  the  jury  was  sworn  to  pass  upon  them;  so  near  it  went:  and 
how  careful  I  was,  and  made  it  my  part,  that  whosoever  was  in 
trouble  about  that  matter,  as  soon  ,as  ever  his  case  was  suffi- 
ciently known  and  denned  of,  might  not  continue  in  restraint,  but 
be  set  at  liberty;  and  many  other  parts,  which  I  am  well  assured 
of1  stood  with  the  dut}'  of  an  honest  man.  But  indeed  I  will  not 
deny  for  the  case  of  Sir  Thomas  Smith  of  London,  the  Queen  de- 
manding my  opinion  of  it,  I  told  her  I  thought  it  was  as  hard  as 
many  of  the  rest:  but  what  was  the  reason?  because  at  that  time 
I  had  seen  only  his  accusation,  and  had  never  been  present  at  any 
examination  of  his;  and  the  matter  so  standing,  I  had  been  very 
untrue  to  my  service,  if  I  had  not  delivered  that  opinion.  But 
afterwards  upon  a  re-examination  of  some  that  charged  him,  who 
weakened  their  own  testimony;  and  especially  hearing  himself 
viva  voce,  I  went  instantly  to  the  Queen,  out  of  the  soundness  of 
my  conscience,  and  not  regarding  what  opinion  I  had  formely  de- 
livered, told  her  Majesty,  I  was  satisfied  and  resolved  in  my 
conscience,  that  for  the  reputation  of  the  action,  the  plot  was  to 
countenance  the  action  further  by  him  in  respect  of  his  place, 
than  they  had  indeed  any  interest  or  intelligence  with  him.  It 
is  very  true  also,  about  that  time  her  Majesty  taking  a  liking 
of  my  pen,  upon  that  which  I  had  done  before  concerning 
the  proceeding  at  York-house,  and  likewise  upon  some  other 
declarations  which  in  former  times  by  her  appointment  I  put 
in  writing,  commanded  me  to  pen  that  book,  which  was  publish- 
ed for  the  better  satisfaction  of  the  world;  which  I  did,  but  so  as 
never  secretary  had  more  particular  and  express  directions  and 
instructions  in  every  point  how  to  guide  my  hand  in  it;  and  not 
only  so;  but  after  that  I  had  made  a  first  draught  thereof,  and 
propounded  it  to  certain  principal  counsellors,  by  her  Majesty's 
appointment,  it  was  perused,  weighed,  censured,  altered,  and  made 
almost  a  new  writing,2  according  to  their  Lordship's  better  con- 
sideration; wherein  their  Lordships  and  myself  both  were  as  re- 

1  So  in  original.  8  anezt>,  writing  in  original. 


Bacon 's  Apology.  [2 1 

ligious  and  curious  of  truth,  as  desirous  of  satisfaction:  and  my- 
self indeed  gave  only  words  and  form  of  style  in  pursuing  their 
direction.  And  after  it  had  passed  their  allowance,  it  was  again 
exactly  perused  by  the  Queen  herself,  and  some  alterations  made 
again  by  her  appointment:  nay,  and  after  it  was  set  to  print,  the 
Queen,  who,  as  your  Lordship  knoweth,  as  she  was  excellent  in 
great  matters,  so  she  was  exquisite  in  small,  and  noted  that  I 
could  not  forget  my  ancient  respect  to  my  Lord  of  Essex,  in 
terming  him  ever,  My  Lord  of  Essex,  My  Lord  of  Essex,  in  al- 
most every  page  of  the  book,  which  she  thought  not  fit,  but 
would  have  it  made  Essex,  or  the  late  Earl  of  Essex:  whereupon 
of  force  it  was  printed  de  novo,  and  the  first  copies  suppressed 
by  her  peremptory  commandment.  And  this,  my  good  Lord,  to 
my  furthest  remembrance,  is  all  that  passed  wherein  I  had  part; 
which  I  have  set  down  as  near  as  I  could  in  the  very  words  and 
speeches  that  were  used,  not  because  they  are  worthy  the  repeti- 
tion, I  mean  those  of  mine  own;  but  to  the  end  your  Lordship 
may  lively  and  plainl}T  discern  between  the  face  of  truth  and  a 
smooth  tale.  And  the  rather  also  because  in  things  that  passed 
a  good  while  since,  the  very  words  and  phrases  did  sometimes 
bring  to  my  remembrance  the  matters:  wherein  I  report  me  to 
your  honourable  judgment,  whether  }TOU  do  not  see  the  traces  of 
an  honest  man:  and  had  I  been  as  well  believed  either  by  the 
Queen  or  by  my  Lord,  as  I  was  well  heard  by  them  both,  both 
my  Lord  had  been  fortunate,  and  so  had  myself  in  his  fortune. 

To  conclude  therefore,  I  humbly  pra}^  3^our  Lordship  to  pardon 
me  for  troubling  37ou  with  this  long  narration;  and  that  you  will 
vouchsafe  to  hold  me  in  your  good  opinion,  till  you  know  I  have 
deserved,  or  find  that  I  shall  deserve  the  contrary;  and  even  so  I 
continue 

At  your  Lordship's  honourable  commandments  very  humbly. 


[APPENDIX  III.] 


A 
DECLARATION  OF  THE  PRACTICES  AND  TREASONS 

ATTEMPTED  AND  COMMITTED  BY 

ROBERT  LATE  EARL  OF  ESSEX 

AND  HIS  COMPLICES, 

AGAINST  HER  MAJESTY  AND  HER  KINGDOMS, 

AND  OF  THE  PROCEEDINGS  AS  WELL  AT  THE  ARRAIGNMENTS  AND  CONVIC- 
TIONS OF  THE  SAID  LATE  EARL.  AND  HIS  ADHERENTS,  AS  AFTER: 

TOGETHER  WITH  THE  VERY  CONFESSIONS, 

AND  OTHER   PARTS   OF  THE  EVIDENCES  THEMSELVES,  WORD  FOR  WORD 
TAKEN  OUT  OF  THE  ORIGINALS. 


IMPRINTED  AT  LONDON  BY  ROBERT  BARKER, 
PRINTER  TO  THE  QUEEN'S  MOST  EXCELLENT  MAJESTY. 

ANNO  1601. 


A  DECLARATION 

TOUCHING  THE 

TREASONS  OF  THE  LATE  EARL  OF  ESSEX 
AND  HIS  COMPLICES. 


Though  public  justice  passed  upon  capital  offenders,  according  to 
the  laws,  and  in  course  of  an  honourable  and  ordinary  trial  (w/iere 
tJic  case  would  have  borne  and  required  the  severity  of  martial  law 
to  have  been  speedily  used},  do  in  itself  carry  a  sufficient  satisfac- 
tion towards  all  men,  specially  in  a  merciful  government,  such  as 
her  Majesty's  is  approved  to  be:  yet  because  there  do  pass  abroad 
in  the  hands  of  many  men  divers  false  and  corrupt  collections  and 
relations  of  the  proceedings  at  the  arraignment  of  the  late  Earls 
of  Essex  and  Southampton;  and  again,  because  it  is  requisite  that 
the  world  do  understand  as  well  the  precedent  practices  and  induce- 
ments to  the  treasons,  as  the  open  and  actual  treasons  themselves 
(though  in  a  case  of  life  it  was  not  thought  convenient  to  insist  at 
the  trial  upon  matter  of  inference  or  presumption,  but  chiefly  upon 
matter  of  plain  and  direct  proofs};  therefore  it  hath  been  thought 
fit  to  publish  to  the  world  a  brief  Declaration  of  the  practices  and 
treasons  attempted  and  committed  by  Robert  late  Earl  of  Essex 
and  his  complices  against  her  Majesty  and  her  kingdoms,  and  of  the 
proceedings  at  the  convictions  of  the  said  late  Earl  and  his  adher- 
ents upon  the  same  treasons :  and  not  so  only,  but  therewithal,  for 
the  better  warranting  and  verifying'  of  t/ie  narration,  to  set  down 
in  the  end  the  very  confessions  and  testimonies  tJiemselves,  word  for 
word  taken  out  of  the  originals,  whereby  it  will  be  most  man ifest 
that  nothing  is  obscured  or  disguised,  though  it  do  appear  by  divers 
most  wicked  and  seditious  libels  thrown  abroad,  that  the  dregs  of 


2~\  Bacons  Declaration. 

these  treasons?  which  the  late  Earl  of  Essex  himself,  a  little  before 
his  death,  did  term  a  Leprosy,  that  had  infected  far  and  near,  do  yet 
remain  in  the  hearts  and  tongties  of  some  misaffected  persons. 

THE  most  partial  will  not  deny,  but  that  Robert  late  Earl  of 
Essex  was  by  her  Majesty's  manifold  benefits  and  graces,  besides 
oath  and  allegiance,  as  much  tied  to  her  Majesty  as  the  subject 
could  be  to  the  sovereign;  her  Majesty  having  heaped  upon  him 
both  dignities,  offices,  and  gifts,  in  such  measure,  as  within  the 
circle  of  twelve  years  or  more  there  was  scarcely  a  year  of  rest, 
in  which  he  did  not  obtain  at  her  Majesty's  hands  some  notable 
addition  either  of  honour  or  profit. 

But  he  on  the  other  side,  making  these  her  Majest)T's  favours 
nothing  else  but  wings  for  his  ambition,  and  looking  upon  them 
not  as  her  benefits  but  as  his  advantages,  supposing  that  to  be 
his  own  metal  which  was  but  her  mark  and  impression,  was  so 
given  over  by  God  (who  often  punisheth  ingratitude  by  ambition, 
and  ambition  by  treason,  and  treason  by  final  ruin),  as  he  had 
long  ago  plotted  it  in  his  heart  to  become  a  dangerous  supplanter 
of  that  seat,  whereof  he  ought  to  have  been  a  principal  supporter; 
in  such  sort  as  now  every  man  of  common  sense  may  discern  not 
only  his  last  actual  and  open  treasons,  but  also  his  former  more 
secret  practices  and  preparations  towards  those  his  treasons,  and 
that  without  any  gloss  or  interpreter  but  himself  and  his  own 
doings. 

For  first  of  all,  the  world  can  now  expound  why  it  was  that  he 
did  aspire,  and  had  almost  attained,  unto  a  greatness  like  unto 
the  ancient  greatness  of  the  Prcefectus  Prcetorio  under  the  Em- 
perors of  Rome,  to  have  all  men  of  war  to  make  their  sole  and 
particular  dependence  upon  him;  that  with  such  jealousy  and 
watchfulness  he  sought  to  discountenance  any  one  that  might  be 
a  competitor  to  him  in  any  part  of  that  greatness;  that  with  great 
violence  and  bitterness  he  sought  to  suppress  and  keep  down  all 
the  worthiest  martial  men  which  did  not  appropriate  their  re- 
spects and  acknowledgments  only  towards  himself.  All  which 
did  manifestly  detect  and  distinguish,  that  it  was  not  the  repu- 
tation of  a  famous  leader  in  the  wars  which  he  sought  [as  it  was 
construed  a  great  while],  but  only  power  and  greatness  to  serve 


Bacon  s  Declaration.  [3 

his  own  ends;  considering  he  never  loved  virtue  nor  valour  in 
another,  but  where  he  thought  he  should  be  proprietary  and  com- 
mander of  it,  as  referred  to  himself. 

So  likewise  those  points  of  popularity  which  every  man  took 
notice  and  note  of,  as  his  affable  gestures,  open  doors,  making 
his  table  and  his  bed  so  popularly  places  of  audience  to  suit- 
ors, denying  nothing  when  he  did  nothing,  feeding  many  men  in 
their  discontentments  against  the  Queen  and  the  State,  and  the 
like,  as  they  ever  were  since  Absalon's  time  the  forerunners  of 
treasons  following,  so  in  him  were  they  either  the  qualities  of  a 
nature  disposed  to  disloyalty,  or  the  beginnings  and  conceptions 
of  that  which  afterwards  grew  to  shape  and  form. 

But  as  it  were  a  vain  thing  to  think  to  search  the  roots  and 
first  motions  of  treasons,  which  are  known  to  none  but  God  that 
discerns  the  heart,  and  the  devil  that  gives  the  instigation;  so 
it  is  more  than  to  be  persumed  (being  made  apparent  by  the  ev- 
idence of  all  the  events  following)  that  he  carried  into  Ireland  a 
heart  corrupted  in  his  allegiance,  and  pregnant  of  those  or  the 
like  treasons  which  afterwards  came  to  light. 

For  being  a  man  by  nature  of  an  high  imagination,  and  a  great 
promiser  to  himself  as  well  as  to  others,  he  was  confident  that  if 
he  were  once  the  first  person  in  a  kingdom,  and  a  sea  between 
the  Queen's  seat  and  his,  and  Wales  the  nearest  land  from  Ire- 
land, and  that  he  had  got  the  flower  of  the  English  forces  into 
his  hands  (which  he  thought  so  to  intermix  with  his  own  follow- 
ers, as  the  whole  body  should  move  by  his  spirit),  and  if  he 
might  have  also  absolutely  into  his  hands  potestatcm  vitce  et  necis 
and  arbitrium  belli  et  pads  over  the  rebels  of  Ireland,  whereby 
he  might  entice  and  make  them  his  own,  first  by  pardons  and 
conditions,  and  alter  by  hopes  to  bring  them  in  place  where  they 
should  serve  for  hope  of  better  booties  than  cows,  he  should  be 
able  to  make  that  place  of  Lieutenancy  of  Ireland  as  a  rise  or 
step  to  ascend  to  his  desired  greatness  in  England. 

Arid  although  many  of  these  conceits  were  windy,  yet  neither 
were  they  the  less  like  to  his,  neither  are  they  now  only  probable 
conjectures  or  comments  upon  these  his  last  treasons,  but  the 
very  preludes  of  actions  almost  immediately  subsequent,  as  shall 
be  touched  in  due  place. 


4]  Bacons  Declaration. 

But  first,  it  was  strange  with  what  appetite  and  thirst  he 
•  did  affect  and  compass  the  government  of  Ireland,  which  he 
did  obtain.  For  although  he  made  some  formal  shows  to  put 
it  from  him;  yet  in  this,  as  in  most  things  else,  his  desires 
being  too  strong  for  his  dissimulations,  he  did  so  far  pass  the 
bounds  of  decorum,  as  he  did  in  effect  name  himself  to  the 
Queen  b}^  such  description  and  such  particularities  as  could 
not  be  applied  to  any  other  but  himself;  neither  did  he  so  only, 
but  further  he  was  still  at  hand  to  offer  and  urge  vehemently 
and  peremptorily  exceptions  to  any  other  that  was  named. 
Then  after  he  once  found  that  there  was  no  man  but  him- 
self (who  had  other  matters  in  his  head)  so  far  in  love  with 
that  charge  as  to  make  any  competition  or  opposition  to  his 
pursuit,  whereby  he  saw  it  would  fall  upon  him,  and  especi- 
ally after  himself  was  resolved  upon,  he  began  to  make  prop- 
ositions to  her  Majesty  by  way  of  taxation  of  the  former  course 
held  in  managing  the  actions  of  Ireland,  especially  upon  three 
points;  The  first,  that  the  proportions  of  forces  which  had 
been  there  maintained  and  continued  by  suipplk-s,  were  not 
sufficient  to  bring  the  prosecutions  there  to  period.  The  sec- 
ond, that  the  axe  had  not  been  put  to  the  root  of  the  tree,  in 
regard  there  had  not  been  made  a  main  prosecution  upon  the 
arch-traitor  Tyrone  in  his  own  strength,  within  the  province 
of  Ulster.  The  third,  that  the  prosecutions  before  time  had 
been  intermixed  and  interrupted  with  too  many  temporizing 
treaties,  whereby  the  rebel  did  ever  gather  strength  and  rep- 
utation to  renew  the  war  with  advantage.  All  which  goodly 
and  well-sounding  discourses,  together  with  the  great  vaunts 
that  he  would  make  the  earth  tremble  before  him,  tended  but 
to  this,  that  the  Oueen  should  increase  the  list  of  her  arm}' 
and  all  proportions  of  treasure  and  other  furniture,  to  the  end 
his  commandment  might  be  the  greater.  For  that  he  never 
intended  any  such  prosecution  may  appear  by  this,  that  even 
The  at  the  time  before  his  going  into  Ireland  he  did  open  himself 

cpnfes-so  far  jn  speech  to  Blunt,  his  inwardest  counsellor,  That  lie 

sion  of 

Blunt,  did  assure  lihnsclj  t  licit  many  of  the  rehcJs  in  Ireland  would  be 

advised  by  him:  so  far  was  he  from  intending  any  prosecution 


Bacons  Declaration.  [5 

towards  those  in  whom  he  took  himself  to  have  interest.  But 
his  ends  were  two:  The  one,  to  get  great  forces  into  his  hands; 
the  other,  to  oblige  the  heads  of  the  rebellion  unto  him,  and  to 
make  them  of  his  party.  These  two  ends  had  in  themselves  a 
repugnancy;  for  the  one  imported  prosecution,  and  the  other  trea- 
ty: but  he,  that  meant  to  be  too  strong  to  be  called  to  account 
for  anything,  and  meant  besides  when  he  was  once  in  Ireland  to 
engage  himself  in  other  journeys  that  should  hinder  the  prosecu- 
tion in  the  North,  took  things  in  order  as  they  made  for  him. 
And  so  first  did  nothing,  as  was  said,  but  trumpet  a  final  and  utter 
prosecution  against  Tyrone  in  the  North,  to  the  end  to  have  his 
forces  augmented. 

But  yet  he  forgat  not  his  other  purpose  of  making  himself 
strong  by  a  party  amongst  the  rebels,  when  it  came  to  the  scan- 
ning of  the  clauses  of  his  commission.  For  then  he  did  insist, 
and  that  with  a  kind  of  contestation,  that  the  pardoning,  no  not 
of  Tyrone  himself,  the  capital  rebel,  should  be  excepted  and  re- 
served to  her  Majesty's  immediate  grace;  being  infinitely  desir- 
ous that  Tyrone  should  not  look  beyond  him  for  his  life  or  par- 
don, but  should  hold  his  fortune  as  of  him,  and  account  for  it  to 
him  only. 

So  again,  whereas  in  the  commission  of  the  Karl  of  Sussex, 
and  of  all  other  lieutenants  or  deputies,  there  was  ever  in  that 
clause  which  giveth  unto  the  lieutenant  or  deputy  that  high  or  re- 
gal point  of  authority  to  pardon  treasons  and  traitors,  an  excep- 
tion contained  of  such  cases  of  treason  as  are  committed  against 
the  person  of  the  King;  it  was  strange,  and  suspiciously  strange 
even  at  that  time,  with  what  importunity  and  instance  he  did  la- 
bour, and  in  the  end  prevailed,  to  have  that  exception  also  omit- 
ted; glosing  then,  that  because  he  had  heard  that  by  strict  expos- 
ition of  law  (a  point  in  law  that  he  would  needs  forget  at  his 
arraignment,  but  could  take  knowledge  of  it  before,  when  it  was 
to  serve  his  own  ambition,)  all  treasons  of  rebellion  did  tend  to 
the  destruction  of  the  King's  person,  it  might  breed  a  buzz  in  the 
rebel's  heads,  and  so  discourage  them  from  coming  in;  whereas 
he  knew  well  that  in  all  experience  passed,  there  was  never  rebel 
made  any  doubt  or  scruple  upon  that  point  to  accept  of  pardon 

28 


6]  Bacon  s  Declaration. 

from  all  former  governors,  who  had  their  commissions  penned 
with  that  limitation  (their  commissions  being  things  not  kept 
secretly  in  a  box,  but  published  and  recorded):  so  as  it  appeared 
manifestly  that  it  was  a  mere  device  of  his  own  out  of  the  secret 
reaches  of  his  heart  then  not  revealed;  but  it  may  be  shrewdly 
expounded  since,  what  his  drift  was,  by  those  pardons  which  he 
granted  to  Blunt  the  marshal,  and  Thomas  Lee,  and  others  that 
his  care  was  no  less  to  secure  his  own  instruments  than  the  re- 
bels of  Ireland. 

Yet  was  there  another  point  for  which  he  did  contend  and  con- 
test, which  was,  that  he  might  not  be  tied  to  any  opinion  of  the 
Counsel  of  Ireland,  as  all  others  in  certain  points  (as  pardoning 
traitors,  concluding  war  and  peace,  and  some  other  principal  ar- 
ticles) had  been  before  him;  to  the  end  he  might  be  absolute  of 
himself,  and  be  fully  master  of  opportunities  and  occasions  for 
the  performing  and  executing  of  his  own  treasonable  ends. 

But  after  he  had  once  by  her  Majesty's  singular  trust  and  fav- 
our toward  him  obtained  his  patent  of  commission  as  large,  and 
his  list  of  forces  as  full  as  he  desired,  there  was  an  end  in  his 
course  of  the  prosecution  in  the  North.  For  being  arrived  into 
Ireland,  the  whole  carriage  of  his  actions  there  was  nothing  else 
but  a  cunning  defeating  of  that  journey,  with  an  intent  (as  ap- 
peared) in  the  end  of  the  year  to  pleasure  and  gratify  the  rebel 
with  a  dishonourable  peace,  and  to  contract  with  him  for  his  own 
greatness. 

Therefore  not  long  a  fter  he  had  received  the  sword,  he  did 
voluntarily  engage  himself  in  an  unseasonable  and  fruitless  jour- 
ney into  Munster,  a  journey  never  propounded  in  the  Counsel 
there,  never  advertised  over  hither  while  it  was  past:  by  which 
journey  her  Majesty's  forces,  which  were  to  be  preserved  entire 
both  in  vigour  and  number  for  the  great  prosecution,  were  har- 
assed and  tired  with  long  marches  together,  and  the  northern 
prosecution  was  indeed  quite  dashed  and  made  impossible. 

But  yet  still  doubting  he  might  receive  from  her  Majesty  some 
quick  and  express  commandment  to  proceed;  to  be  sure,  he  pur- 
sued his  former  device  of  wrapping  himself  in  other  actions,  and 
so  set  himself  on  work  anew  in  the  county  of  Ophaley,  being  re- 


Bacon  s  Declaration.  [7 

solved,  as  is  manifest,  to  dally  out  the  season,  and  never  to 
have  gone  that  journey  at  all:  that  setting  forward  which  he 
made  in  the  very  end  of  August  being  but  a  mere  play  and 
a  mockery,  and  for  the  purposes  which  now  shall  be  declared. 

After  he  preceived  that  four  months  of  the  summer  and 
three  parts  of  the  army  were  wasted,  he  thought  now  was  a 
time  to  set  on  foot  such  a  peace  as  might  be  for  the  rebels' 
advantage,  and  so  to  work  a  mutual  obligation  between 
Tyrone  and  himself;  for  which  purpose  he  did  but  seek  a 
commodity.  He  had  there  with  him  in  his  army  one  Thomas 
Lee,  a  man  of  a  seditious  and  working  spirit,  and  one  that 
had  been  privately  familiar  and  entirely  beloved  of  Tyrone, 
and  one  that  afterwards,  immediately  upon  Essex  open  re- 
bellion, was  apprehended  for  a  desperate  attempt  of  violence 
against  her  Majesty's  person;  which  he  plainly  confessed, 
and  for  which  he  suffered.  Wherefore  judging  him  to  be  a 
fit  instrument,  he  made  some  signification  to  Lee  of  such 
an  employment,  which  was  no  sooner  signified  than  appre- 
hended by  Lee.  He  gave  order  also  to  Sir  Christopher 
Blunt,  marshal  of  his  army,  to  license  Lee  to  go  to  Tyrone, 
when  he  should  require  it.  But  Lee  thought  good  to  let 
slip  first  unto  Tyrone  (which  was  nevertheless  by  the  mar- 
shal's warrant)  one  James  Knowd,  a  person  of  wit  and  suffi- 
ciency, to  sound  in  what  terms  and  humours  Tyrone  then 
was.  This  Knowd  returned  a  message  from  Tyrone  to  Lee, 
which  was,  That  if  the  Earl  of  Essex  would  follow  Tyrone's  CQ^_ 
plot,  he  would  make  the  Earl  of  Essex  the  greatest  man  that  fes- 
cvcr  was  in  England:  and  further,  tJiat  if  the  Earl  would*1?^-^ 
have  conference  with  hint,  Tyrone  would  deliver  his  eldest  son  Lee. 
in  pledge  for  his  assurance.  This  message  was  delivered 
by  Knowd  to  Lee,  and  by  Lee  was  imparted  to  the  Earl  of 
Essex,  who  after  this  message  emploj^ed  Lee  himself  to  T}^- 
rone,  and  by  his  negotiating,  (whatsoever  passed  else)  pre- 
pared and  disposed  Tyrone  to  the  parley. 

And   this  employment  of   Lee  was  a  matter  of  that  guilt-  in  the 
iness    in  my    Lord,  as,  being  charged   with  it   at  my    Lord  j?on~ 
Keeper's   only   in   this  nature  (for  the  message  of  Knowd  sion 


8]  Bacon  s  Declaration. 

of        was  not  then  known)  that  when  he  pretended  to  assail  Ty- 

Blunt 

at  the  rone   he  had   before  underhand  agreed   upon  a    parley,  my 

kar>.  n  Lord  utterly  denied  it  that  he  ever  employed  Lee  to  Tyrone 
he  did 

then  at  all,  and  turned  it  upon  Blunt,  whom  he  afterwards  re- 
quired to  take  it  upon  him,  having  before  sufficiently  pro- 
that  vided  for  the  security  of  all  parts,  for  he  had  granted  both 
^d  to  Blunt  and  Lee  pardons  of  all  treasons  under  the  great 
Essex  seal  of  Ireland,  and  so,  himself  disclaiming  it,  and  they  be- 
h^sr  ing  pardoned,  all  was  safe. 

tic-          But  when  that  Tyrone  was  by  these  means  (besides  what 
r     others  God  knows)  prepared  to  demand  a  parley,  now  was 
rant     the  time  for  Essex  to  acquit  himself  of  all  the  Queen's  com- 
*°nd    mandments,  and  his  own  promises  and  undertakings  for  the 
Lee,    northern  journey;  and  not  so  alone,  but  to  have  the  glory  at 
a5?ter_  the  disadvantage  of  the  year,  being  but  2500  strong  of  foot, 
wards  and   300  of  horse,  after  the   fresh  disaster  of    Sir  Coniers 
^f      Clifford,  in   the   height  of  the  rebels'  pride,  to  set    forth  to 
sired   assail,  and  then  that    the  very  terror  and  reputation  of  my 
sex^o  Lord  of  Essex  person  was  such  as  did  daunt  him  and  make 
take  it  him  stoop  to  seek  a  parley;  and  this  was  the  end  he  shot  at 
hFmn   *n  that  September  journey,  being  a  mere  abuse  and  bravery, 
self,     and  but  inducements  only  to  the  treaty,  which  was  the  only 
2^t     matter  he  intended.     For  Essex   drawing  now   towards  the 
they    catastrophe  or  last  part  of   that  tragedy  for  which   he  came 
ha(j     upon  the  stage   in   Ireland,  his  treasons  grew  to    a   further 
par-    ripeness.     For  knowing  how  unfit  it  was  for  him  to  commun- 
icate with  any  English,  even  of  those  whom  he  trusted  most 
and  meant  to  use  in  other  treasons,  that  he  had  an  intention 
to  grow  to  an  agreement  with  Tyrone  to  have  succours  from 
him  for  the   usurping   upon   the  state  here,  (not  because  it 
was  more  dangerous  than   the  rest  of   his  treasons,  but   be- 
cause it  was  more  odious,  and  in  a  kind  monstrous,  that  he 
should  conspire  with  such  a  rebel  against  whom  he  was  sent, 
and  therefore  might  adventure  to  alienate  men's  affections 
from  him,)  he  drave  it  to  this,  that  there  might  be,  and   so 
there  was,  under  colour  of  treaty,  an  interview  and   private 
conference  between  Tyrone  and  himself  only,  no  third  per- 


Bacon  s  Declaration.  [9 

son  admitted.  A  strange  course,  considering  with  whom  he 
dealt,  and  especially  considering  what  message  Knowd  had 
brought,  which  should  have  made  him  rather  call  witnesses 
to  him  than  avoid  witnesses.  But  he  being  only  true  to  his 
own  ends,  easily  dispensed  with  all  such  considerations. 
Nay  there  was  such  careful  order  taken  that  no  person  should 
overhear  one  word  that  passed  between  them  two,  as  because 
the  place  appointed  and  used  for  the  parley  was  such  as 
there  was  the  depth  of  a  brook  between  them,  which  made 
them  speak  (with)  some  loudness,  there  were  certain  horse- 
men appointed  by  order  from  Essex  to  keep  all  men  off  a 
great  distance  from  the  place. 

It  is  true  that  the  secrec}r  of  that  parley,  as  it  gave  to 
him  the  more  liberty  of  treason,  so  it  may  give  any  man 
the  more  liberty  of  surmise  what  was  then  handled  between 
them;  inasmuch  as  nothing  can  be  known  but  by  report  from 
one  of  them  two,  either  Essex  or  Tyrone. 

But  although  there  were  no  proceeding  against  Essex  upon 
these  treasons,  and  that  it  w7ere  a  needless  thing  to  load 
more  treasons  upon  him  then,  whose  burthen  was  so  great 
after;  yet  for  truth's  sake,  it  is  fit  the  world  know  what  is 
testified  touching  the  speeches,  letters,  and  reports  of  Ty- 
rone, immediately  following  this  conference,  and  observe 
also  what  ensued  likewise  in  the  designs  of  Essex  himself.  ^J|_ 

On  Tyrone's  part  it  fell  out,  that  the  very  day  after  that  tion 
Essex  came  to  the  Court  of   England,  T}7rone  having   con-  ^  Sir 
ference  with  Sir  William  Warren  at  Armagh,  by  way  of  dis-  War- 
course  told  him,  and  bound  it  with  an  oath,  and  iterated  it  £®°j. 
two  or  three  several  times;  That  within  two  or  three  months  fied 
he  should  see  the  greatest  alterations  and  strangest  that  ever  jjflder 
he  saw  in  his  life,  or  could  imagine :  and  that  he  the  said  Ty-  hand, 
rone  hoped  ere  long  to  have  a  good  share  in  E?igland.      With  *5°m 
this  concurred  fully  the  report  of  Richard  Bremingham,  a  Coun- 
gentleman  of   the   Pale,  having   made  his  repair  about  the  ^e_oi 
same  time  to  Tyrone  to  right  him  in  a  cause  of  land;  saving  land 
that  Bremingham  delivers  the  like  speech  of  Tyrone  to  him-  J°  ™,e 
self;  but   not   what   Tyrone   hoped,  but   what   Tyrone   had  of  the 


lol  Bacon  s  Declaration. 


Coun-  promised  in  these  words,  That  he  had  promised  (it  may  be 
here,  thought  to  whom)  ere  long  to  show  his  face  in  England,  little 
The  to  the  good  of  England. 

report  These  generalities  coming  immediately  from  the  report  of 
Bre-  Tyrone  himself,  are  drawn  to  more  particularity  in  a  con- 


harrf"  ^erence  nad  between  the  Lord    Fitz-Morrice,  Baron  of  Lik- 
to  the  snawe  in  Munster,  and   one   Thomas  Wood,  a   person  well 


reputed  of,  immediately  after  Essex  coming   into  England. 
Estate  In  which  conference  Fitz-Morrice  declared  unto  Wood,  that 

m  Ire-  Tyrone  had  written  to  the  traitorous  titulary    Earl  of  Des- 

land.        •* 

The     niond,  to  inform  him  that  the  condition  of  that  contract  be- 

con-    tween  Tyrone  and    Essex  was,  That  Essex  should  be   King 

sion     °J  England;  and  that  Tyrone  should  hold  of  him  the  honour 

of        and  state  of  Viceroy  of  Ireland;  and  that   the  proportion  of 

Wood  soldiers  which  Tyrone   should  bring  or  send  to   Essex,  were 

8,000  Irish.     With  which  concurreth  fully  the  testimony  of 

The     the  said   James    Knowde,  who,  being   in  credit  with   Owny 

£°sn~    Mac  Roory,  chief  of  the  Omoores  in  Lemster,  was  used  as 

sion     a  secretary  for   him,  in   the   writing  of   a   letter  to  Tyrone, 

jfmes  immediately  after  Essex  coming  to  England.      The  effect  of 

Know-  which  letter  was,    To  understand  some   light  of  the   secret 

e'       agreement  between  the  Earl  of  Essex  and  Tyrone,  that  he  the 

said  Owny  might  frame  bis  course  accordingly.      Which  letter, 

with  further  instructions  to  the  same  effect,  was  in  the  pres- 

ence of  Knowde   delivered  to   Turlagh    Macdavy,  a  man  of 

trust  with  Owny,  who  brought  an  answer  from  Tyrone:  the 

contents  whereof  were,  That  the  Earl  of  Essex  had  agreed  to 

take  bis  part,  and  that  they  should  aid  him  towards  the  con- 

quest of  England. 

Besides,  very  certain   it   is,  and   testified  by  divers  cred- 

ible persons,  that   immediate^   upon   this   parley  there  did 

fly  abroad  as  sparkles  of  this  fire  (which  it  did  not  concern 

T\7rone  so  much  to  keep  secret,  as  it  did  Essex)  a  general 

and  received  opinion,  that  went  up  and  down  in  the  mouths 

The     both  of  the  better  and  meaner  sort  of  rebels,   That  the  Earl 

tio    °f  Essex  was  theirs,  and  they  his;   and  that  he  would  never 

of  Da-  leave  the  one  sword,  meaning  that  of  Ireland,  till  he  had  got- 


Bacon  s  Declaration.  [n 


ten  the  other  in  England;  and  that  he  would  bring  them  to  vid 
serve,  where  they  should  have  other  manner  of  booties  than  ther- 
cows;  and  the  like  speeches.      And  Thomas   Lee  himself,  ing~ 
(who  had  been,  as  was  before  declared,  with  Tyrone  two  or  jarnes 
three  days,  upon  my  Lord's  sending,  and  had  sounded  him)  Kn°- 

WQ 

hath  left  it  confessed  under  his  hand,  That  he  knew  the  an(j 
Earl  of  Essex  and  Tyrone  to  be  one,  and  to  run  the  same  ot^- 
courses. 


And  certain  it  is  also,  that  immediately  upon  that  parley  con- 
Tyrone  grew  into  a  strange  and  unwonted  pride,  and  ap-  g^ 
pointed  his  progresses  and  visitations  to  receive  congratula-  ofTh. 
tions  and  homages  from  his  confederates,  and  behave  him-     ee' 
self  in  all  things  as  one  that  had  some  new  spirit  of  hope 
and  courage  put  into  him. 

But  on   the   Earl  of  Essex  his  part  ensued  immediately 
after  this  parley  a  strange  motion  and  project,  which  though 
no  doubt  he  had  harboured  in  his  breast  before,  yet  for  any- 
thing yet  appeareth,  he  did  not  utter  and  break  with  any  in 
it,  before  he  had  been  confirmed  and  fortified  in  his  purpose 
by  the  combination  and  correspondence  which  he  found  in 
Tyrone  upon  their  conference.       Neither  is  this  a  matter 
gathered  out  of  reports,  but  confessed  directly  by  two  ofThe 
his  principal  friends  and  associates,  being  witnesses  upon  Of 
their  own  knowledge,  and  of  that  which  was  spoken  to  them-South~ 
selves:  the  substance  of  which  confessions  is  this:    That  a  ton 
little    before  my    Lord's  coming    over  into  England;^    at    the  and 
castle  of  Dublin,  where  Sir  Christopher  Blunt  lay  hurt,  hav-  chris- 
ing  been  lately  removed  thither  from  Re  ban,  a  castle  of  T/wmasioP^e* 
Lee's,  and  placed  in  a  lodging  that  had  been  my  Lord  of  'South- 


ampton's,    the  Earl  of  Essex  took   the  Earl  of  Southampton  sub- 
with  him  to  visit  Blunt,  and  there  being  none  present  but  thcy*J^\^ 
three,  my  Lord  of  Essex  told  them,  he  found  it  now  necessary  which 
for  him   to  go   into  England,  and  would  advise  with  them  <?. 


1  Mr.  Spedding  here  says,  "According  to  the  examination  which  bears  Sir 
Christopher's  signature,  it  was  some  few  days  before  the  Earl's  journey  into 
the  North:  which  would  imply  a  still  more  deliberate  and  inexcusable  trea- 
son, and  seems  hardly  credible.  "  —  Abbott.  But  see  above,  p.  129. 


12]  Bacons  Declaration. 


by  the  manner  of  his  going,  since  to  go  he  was  resolved.  And 
amp-  thereupon  propounded  unto  tJieni,  that  he  thought  it  Jit  to  carry 
ton  with  him  of  the  army  in  Ireland  as  nuicli  as  Jie  could  convcni- 
Blunt  cn*ly  transport,  at  Jeast  the  choice  of  it,  to  the  number  of  two 
touch-  or  three  thousand,  to  secure  and  make  good  his  lirst  descent  on 
E^ex  shore,  pin- posing  to  land  them  at  Mil  ford  Haven  in  If'ti/es,  or 
pur-  thereabouts;  not  doubting,  Intt  tliat  liis  artny  would  so  Increase 
\Q  within  a  small  time  by  sucJi  as  would  come  in  to  him,  as  lie 
have  should  be  able  to  march  with  his  power  to  London,  and  make 
port-  /ll's  own  conditions  as  he  thought  good.  But  both  Soi/thai/ip- 
ed  in-  ton  and  Blunt  dissuaded  him  from  this  enterprise;  Blunt  al- 
Eng-  leging  the  hazard  of  it,  and  that  it  would  make  him  odions: 
land  a)i(f  Southampton  utterly  disliking  of  that  course,  upon  the 
army  sa///('  an(t  many  other  reasons.  Howbeit  thereupon  />///;//  ad- 
of  Ire-  vised  him  rather  to  another  course,  which  was  to  draw  forth 
and'  of  the  army  some  200  resolute  gentlemen,  and  with  those  to 
tne  come  over,  and  so  to  make  sure  of  the  Court,  and  so  to  make  his 
ging  own  conditions.  Which  confessions  it  is  not  amiss  to  deliv- 
ofthater  by  what  a  good  providence  of  God  they  came  to  light: 
sign  f°r  they  could  not  be  used  at  Essex  arraignment  to  charge 
into  him,  because  they  were  uttered  after  his  death, 
other  But  Sir  Christopher  Blunt  at  his  arraignment,  being 
de-  charged  that  the  Earl  of  Essex  had  set  it  down  under  his 
sur.  hand  that  he  had  been  a  principal  instigator  of  him  to  his 

Pris-    treasons,  in  passion  brake  forth    into   these  speeches:  That 

ing 

the       then  lie  must  be  forced  to  disclose  what  further  matters  he  had 

Qu~  held  my  Lord  from,  and  desired  for  that  purpose  (because  the 
and  present  proceeding  sJiould  not  be  interrupted]  to  speak  witli  the 
Court  Lord  Admiral  and  Mr.  Secretary  after  his  arraignment;  and 

so  fell  most    naturally    and   most    voluntarily  into    this  his 
of  Sir  confession,  which  if  it  had  been  thought  fit  to  have  required 
ls~  of  him  at  that    time   publicly,  he   had    delivered   before  his 
pher    conviction.      And  the  same  confession  he    did  after  (at  the 

time  of   his   execution)   constantly    and    fully    confirm,  dis- 
ar-       course  particularly,  and   take  upon   his  death,  where  never 
merrt   anv  man  showed  less  fear,  nor  a  greater  resolution  to  die. 
and         And  the   same  matter  so   by   him  confessed  was  likewise 


Bacons  Declaration.  [13 


confessed  with   the   same  circumstances  of  time  and    place the 

OCCcLS" 

by  Southampton,  being  severally  examined  thereupon.  j0n  of 

So  as  now  the   world  may  see  how   long  since   my    Lord  ^ 
put  off  his  vizard,  and  disclosed   the  secrets  of  his  heart  to  iing  * 
two  of  his  most   confident    friends,  falling  upon  that  unnat- *° 
ural  and  detestable  treason,  whereunto  all  his  former  actions  afore- 
in  his  government  in  Ireland  (and  God  knows  how  longbe-said 
fore)  were  but  introductions.  fes- 

But  finding  that   these  two  persons,  which  of  all  the  restsions- 
he  thought  to  have  found    forwardest,  Southampton,  whose    , 
displacing   he   had   made   his  own    discontentment  (having  place 
placed  him,  no  question,  to   that   end,  to  find  cause  of    dis-° 
contentment),  and    Blunt,  a  man  so  enterprising  and  prod-eralof 
igal  of  his  owrn  life  (as  himself  termed  himself  at  the  bar),??6 
did  not  applaud    to  this  his  purpose,  and  thereby  doubting  in  the 
how  coldly  he  should    find  others  minded,  that  were  not  so  ^^e_ 
near  to  him;  and  therefore  condescending  to  Blunt's  advice  land 
to  surprise  the  Court,  he  did   pursue  that  plot  accordingly,  ™**_ 
and  came   over   with  a   selected    company    of   captains  and  ferred 
voluntaries,  and  such  as  he   thought  were  most  affectionate   gx 
unto  himself  and  most  resolute,  though  not  knowing  of  his  upon 
purpose.     So  as   even   at   that    time  every   man   noted  and  a^ut 
wondered  what  the  matter  should  be,  that  my  Lord  took  his  ton 
most  particular  friends  and  followers  from  their  companies,  £^~ 
which   were   countenance   and   means  unto   them,  to   bring  to  her 
them  over.     But  his    purpose  (as  in    part  was  touched  be-  J^es 
fore)  was  this;  that  if    he  held    his  greatness  in  Court,  and  ex- 
were  not  commited  (which  in    regard  of   the  miserable  and  conr* 
deplored  estate  he  left    Ireland  in,  whereby  he  thought   the  mand- 
opinion  here  would  be  that  his  service  could  not  be  spared,  m 
he  made    full    account    he  should  not   be)  then,  at   the  first 
opportunity,  he  would  execute  the  surprise  of  her  Majesty's 
person.     And  if  he  were  committed  to  the  Tower  or  to  prison 
for  his  contempts  (for  besides  his  other  contempts,  he  came 
over  expressly  against   the   Queen's    prohibition   under  her 
signet),  it  might  be  the  care  of  some  of  his  principal  friends, 
by  the  help  of    that  choice  and    resolute  company  which  he 
brought  over,  to  rescue  him. 


14]  Bacon  s  Declaration. 

But  the  pretext  of  his  coming  over  was,  by  the  efficacy  of  his 
own  presence  and  persuasion  to  have  moved  and  drawn  her  Ma- 
jesty to  accept  of  such  conditions  of  peace  as  he  had  treated  of 
with  Tyrone  in  his  private  conference;  which  was  indeed  some- 
what needful,  the  principal  article  of  them  being,  That  there 
should  be  a  general  restitution  of  rebels  in  Ireland  to  all  their 
lands  and  possessions,  that  they  could  pretend  any  rig-Jit  to  before 
their  going  out  into  rebellion,  without  reservation  of  such  lands 
as  were  by  Act  of  Parliament  passed  to  the  Crown,  and  so  plant- 
ed with  English,  both  in  the  time  of  Queen  Mar}7,  and  since;  and 
without  difference  either  of  time  of  their  going  forth,  or  nature 
of  their  offence,  or  other  circumstance:  tending  in  effect  to  this, 
That  all  the  Queen's  good  subjects,  in  most  of  the  provinces, 
should  have  been  displanted,  and  the  country  abandoned  to  the 
rebels. 

When  this  man  was  come  over,  his  heart  thus  fraughted  with 
treasons,  and  presented  himself  to  her  Majesty,  it  pleased  God, 
in  his  singular  providence  over  her  Majesty,  to  guide  and  hem  in 
her  proceeding  towards  him  in  a  narrow  wa}7  of  safety  between 
two  perils.  For  neither  did  her  Majesty  leave  him  at  liberty, 
whereby  he  might  have  commodity  to  execute  his  purpose;  nor 
restrain  him  in  any  such  nature,  as  might  signif}7  or  betoken 
matter  of  despair  of  his  return  to  Court  and  favour.  And  so  the 
means  of  present  mischief  being  taken  away,  and  the  humours 
not  stirred,  this  matter  fell  asleep,  and  the  thread  of  his  pur- 
poses was  cut  off.  For  coming  over  about  the  end  of  September, 
and  not  denied  access  and  conference  with  her  Majesty,  and  then 
being  commanded  to  his  chamber  at  Court  for  some  days,  and 
from  thence  to  the  Lord  Keeper's  house,  it  was  conceived  that 
these  were  no  ill  signs.  At  my  Lord  Keeper's  house  he  remained 
till  some  few  days  before  Easter,  and  then  was  removed  to  his 
own  house,  under  the  custody  of  Sir  Richard  Barkley,  and  in  that 
sort  continued  till  the  end  of  Trinity  Term  following. 

For  her  Majesty  all  this  while  looking  into  his  faults  with  the 
eye  of  her  princely  favour,  and  loath  to  take  advantage  of  his 
great  offences  in  other  nature  than  as  contempts,  resolved  so  to 
proceed  against  him  as  might  (to  use  her  Majesty's  own  words) 
tend  ad  correctionem,  et  non  ad  rutnam. 


Bacons  Declaration.  [15 

Nevertheless  afterwards,  about  the  end  of  Trinity  Term  fol- 
lowing, for  the  better  satisfaction  of  the  world,  and  to  repress 
seditious  bruits  and  libels  which  were  dispersed  in  his  justifica- 
tion, and  to  observe  a  form  of  justice  before  he  should  be  set  at 
full  liberty;  her  Majesty  was  pleased  to  direct,  that  there  should 
be  associate  unto  her  Privy  Counsel  some  chosen  persons  of  her 
nobility,  and  of  her  judges  of  the  law;  and  before  them  his  cause 
(concerning  the  breaking  of  his  instructions  for  the  northern 
prosecution,  and  the  manner  of  his  treating  with  Tyrone,  and  his 
coming  over  and  leaving  the  kingdom  of  Ireland  contrary  to  her 
Majesty's  commandment,  expressed  as  well  by  signification  there- 
of made  under  her  ro}Tal  hand  and  signet  as  by  a  most  binding 
and  effectual  letter  written  privately  to  himself)  to  receive  a 
hearing;  with  limitation  nevertheless  that  he  should  not  be 
charged  with  any  point  of  disloyalty;  and  with  like  favour  di- 
rected that  he  should  not  be  called  in  question  in  the  open  and 
ordinary  place  of  offenders  in  the  Star  Chamber,  from  which  he 
had  likewise  by  a  most  penitent  and  humble  letter  desired  to  be 
spared,  as  that  which  would  have  wounded  him  for  ever  as  he 
affirmed,  but  in  a  more  private  manner  at  my  Lord  Keeper's 
house.  Neither  was  the  effect  of  the  sentence  that  there  passed 
against  him  any  more  than  a  suspension  of  the  exercise  of  some 
of  his  places:  at  which  time  also,  Essex,  that  could  vary  himself 
into  all  shapes  for  a  time,  infinitely  desirous  (as  by  the  sequel  now 
appeareth)  to  be  at  liberty  to  practise  and  revive  his  former  pur- 
poses, and  hoping  to  set  into  them  with  better  strength  than  ever, 
because  he  conceived  the  people's  hearts  were  kindled  to  him  by 
his  troubles,  and  that  they  had  made  great  demonstrations  of  as 
much;  he  did  transform  himself  into  such  a  strange  and  dejected 
humility,  as  if  he  had  been  no  man  of  this  world,  with  passion- 
ate protestations  that  he  called  God  to  witness  that  he  had  made 
an  utter  divorce  with  the  world,  and  he  desired  her  Majesty's  fav- 
our not  for  any  ivorldly  respect,  but  for  a  preparative  for  a  Nunc 
dimittis;  and  that  the  tears  of  his  heart  had  quenched  in  him  all 
humours  of  ambition.  All  this  to  make  her  Majesty  secure,  and 
to  lull  the  world  asleep,  that  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  held  any 
ways  dangerous. 


i<5]  Bacon  s  Declaration. 

Not  many  days  after,  Sir  Richard  Barkley  his  keeper  was 
removed  from  him,  and  he  set  at  liberty;  with  this  admonition 
only,  That  he  should  not  take  himself  to  be  altogether  discharg- 
ed,  tJiougJi  he  were  left  to  the  guard  of  none  but  his  own  discre- 
tion. But  he  felt  himself  no  sooner  upon  the  wings  of  his 
liberty  but  (notwithstanding  his  former  shows  of  a  mortified 
estate  of  mind)  he  began  to  practise  afresh,  as  busily  as  ever 
reviving  his  former  resolution;  which  was  the  surprising  and 
possessing  the  Queen's  person  and  the  Court.  And  that  it 
may  appear  how  early  after  his  liberty  he  set  his  engines  on 
work,  having  long  before  entertained  into  his  service,  and 
during  his  government  in  Ireland  drawn  near  unto  him  in 
the  place  of  his  chief  secretary,  one  Henry  Cuffe,  a  base 
fellow  by  birth,  but  a  great  scholar,  and  indeed  a  notable 
traitor  by  the  book,  being  otherwise  of  a  turbulent  and  mut- 
inous spirit  against  all  superiors: 

This  fellow,  in  the  begining  of  August,  which  was  not  a 
month  after  Essex  libert}7  granted,  fell  of  practising  with 
Sir  Henry  Nevill,  that  served  her  Majesty  as  leiger  ambas- 
The     sador  with  the  French  King,  then  newly  come  over  into  Eng- 
decla-  land  from  Bulleyn;  abusing  him  with  a  false  lie  and  mere 
of  Sir  invention,  that  his  service  was  blamed  and  misliked  and  that 
Hen-  the  imputation  of  the  breach  of  the  treaty  of  peace  held  at 
vill.     Bulleyn  was  like  to  light  upon  him  (when  there  was  no  col- 
our of  any  such  matter),  only  to  distate  him  of  others  and 
fasten  him  to  my  Lord;  though  he  did  not  acquaint  him  with 
any  particulars  of  my  Lord's  designs  till  a  good  while  after. 
But  my  Lord  having  spent  the  end  of  the  summer  (being 
a  private  time,  when  everybody  was  out  of  town  and  dis- 
persed) in  digesting  his  own  thoughts,  with  the  help  and 
conference  of  Master  Cuffe,  they  had  soon  set  down  between 
them  the  ancient  principle  of  traitors  and  conspirators,  which 
was,  to  prepare  many,  and  to  acquaint  few;  and,  after  the 
manner  of  mines,  to  make  ready  their  powder  and  place  it, 
and  then  give  fire  but  in  the  instant.      Therefore  the  first 
consideration  was  of  such  persons  as  my  Lord  thought  fit 


Bacon  s  Declaration.  [17 

to  draw  to  be  of  his  party;  singling  out  both  of  nobility  and 
martial  men  and  others  such  as  were  discontented  or  turb- 
ulent, and  such  as  were  weak  of  judgment  and  easy  to  be 
abused,  or  such  as  were  wholly  dependants  and  followers 
(for  means  or  countenance)  of  himself,  Southampton,  or 
some  other  of  his  greatest  associates. 

And  knowing  there  were  no  such  strong  and  drawing  cords 
of  popularity  as  religion,  he  had  not  neglected,  both  at  this 
time  and  long  before,  in  a  profane  policy  to  serve  his  turn 
(for  his  own  greatness)  of  both  sorts  and  factions,  both  of 
Catholics  and  Puritans,  as  they  term  them;  turning  his  out- 
side to  the  one  and  his  inside  to  the  other,  and  making  him- 
self pleasing  and  gracious  to  the  one  sort  by  proffessing 
zeal  and  frequenting  sermons  and  making  much  of  preach- 
ers, and  secretly  underhand  giving  assurance  to  Blunt, 
Davies  and  divers  others,  that  (if  he  might  prevaile  in  his  The 
desired  greatness)  he  would  bring  in  a  toleration  of  the 
Catholic  religion.  of 

Then  having  passed  the  whole  Michaelmas  Term  in  mak- 
ing  himself  plausible,  and  in  drawing  concourse  about  him, 
and  in  affecting  and  alluring  men  by  kind  provocations  and 
usage  (wherein,  because  his  liberty  was  qualified,  he  neither 
forgot  exercise  of  mind  nor  body,  neither  sermon  nor  tennis- 
court,  to  give  the  occasion  and  freedom  of  access  and   con- 
course unto  him)  and  much  other  practice  and  device;  about 
the  end  of  that  term,  towards  Christmas,  he  drew  to  a  more 
framed  resolution  of  the  time  and  manner,  when  and  how  he 
would  put  his  purpose  in  execution.      And  first,  about  the  end 
of  Michaelmas   Term,   it  passed  as  a  kind  of   cipher    and 
watchword  amongst  his  friends  and  followers,  That  my  Lord 
would  stand  upon  his  guard :  which  might   receive  construe-  decla- 
tion  in  good  sense,  as  well  guard  of  circumspection  as  guard  ratio.n 
of  force;  but  to  the  more  private  and  trusty  persons  he  was  Hen- 
content  it  should  be  expounded  that  he  would   be  cooped  uprY^e" 
no  more,  nor  hazard  any  more  restraints  or  commandments,  and 

But  the  next  care  was:  how  to  bring  such  persons  as  he  con" 

ies- 
thought  fit  for  his  purpose  into  town  together,  without  ventsionof 


1 8]  Bacon  s  Declaration. 


sir  .  of  suspicion,  to  be  ready  at  the  time  when  he  should  put  his 
nando  design  in  execution;  which  he  had  concluded  should  be  some 
Gor-  time  in  Hilary  Term;  wherein  he  found  many  devices  to 
draw  them  up,  some  for  suits  in  law,  and  some  for  suits  in 
The  Court,  and  some  for  assurance  of  land:  and  one  friend  to  draw 
fes_  up  another,  it  not  being  perceived  that  all  moved  from  one 
sion  head .  And  it  may  be  truly  noted,  that  in  the  catalogue  of  those 
unt.  persons  that  were  the  eighth  of  February  in  the  action  of 
open  rebellion,  a  man  may  find  almost  out  of  ever}'  county 
of  England  some;  which  could  not  be  by  chance  or  constel- 
lation: and  in  the  particular^  of  examinations  (too  long  to 
be  rehearsed)  it  was  easy  to  trace  in  what  sort  many  of 
them  were  brought  up  to  town,  and  held  in  town  upon  sev- 
eral pretences.  But  in  Candlemas  Term,  when  the  time 
drew  near,  then  was  he  content  consultation  should  be  had 
by  certain  choice  persons,  upon  the  whole  matter  and  course 
which  he  should  hold.  And  because  he  thought  himself 
and  his  own  house  more  observed,  it  was  thought  fit  that 
the  meeting  and  conference  should  beat  Drury  House,  where 
Sir  Charles  Davers  lodged.  There  met  at  this  council,  the 
Earl  of  Southampton,  with  whom  in  former  times  he  had 
been  at  some  emulations  and  differences  in  Court.  But 
after,  Southamptom  having  married  his  kins-woman,  and 
plunged  himself  wholly  into  his  fortune,  and  being  his  con- 
tinual associate  in  Ireland,  he  accounted  of  him  as  most  as- 
sured unto  him,  and  had  long  ago  in  Ireland  acquainted  him 
with  his  purpose,  as  was  declared  before.  Sir  Charles  Dav- 
ers, one  exceedingly  dovoted  to  the  Earl  of  Southampton, 
upon  affection  begun  first  upon  the  deserving  of  the  same 
Earl  towards  him,  when  he  was  in  trouble  about  the  mur- 
ther  of  one  Long.  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorge,  one  that  the  Earl 
of  Essex  had  of  purpose  sent  for  up  from  his  government  at 
Plymouth  by  his  letter,  with  particular  assignation  to  be 
here  before  the  second  of  February.  Sir  John  Davies,  one 
that  had  been  his  servant,  and  raised  by  him,  and  that  bare 
office  in  the  Tower,  being  Surveyor  of  the  Ordinance,  and 
one  that  he  greatly  trusted:  and  John  Littleton,  one  they 
respected  for  his  wit  and  valour. 


Bacon  s  Declaration.  [19 

The  consultation  and  conference  rested  upon  three  parts:  The 
The  perusal  of  a  list  of  those  persons,  whom  they  took   to  fes. 
be  of  their  party:  The  consideration  of  the  action  itself  which  sions 
they  should  set  afoot,  and  how  they   should  proceed  in  it:  chas. 

And  the  distribution  of  the  persons,  according  to  the  action  Dav~ 

crs  i 
concluded  on,  to  their  several  employments.  2;  ^ 

The  list  contained  the  number  of  sixscore  persons,  noble-  John 
men  and  knights  and  principal  gentlemen,  and  was  (for  the  ieS)V2; 
more  credit's  sake)  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  own  handwriting".     sir 

For  the  action  itself,  there  was  proposition  made  of  two  din 
principal  articles:   The  one,  of  possessing  the  Tower  of  Lon-  Gor, 
don:   The  other,  of  surprising  her  Majesty's  person  and  t 


Court;  in  which  also  deliberation  was  had  what  course  to  topher 
hold   with  the  City,  either   towards  the  affecting  of  the  sur-  2;U 
prise  or  after  it  was  effected.  South- 

For  the   Tower  was   alleged,  the  giving   a  reputation  to  t0n  at 
the  action,  by   getting  into  their  hand   the  principal  fort  of  the 
the  realm,  with   the  stores  and   provisions  thereunto  apper- 
taining, the   bridling  of   the  City    by   that    piece,  and  com- 
modity of  entrance   in  and    possessing   it,  by    the  means  of 
Sir  John  Davies.      But  this  was  by  opinion  of   all  rejected, 
as  that  which  would    distract   their  attempt    from  the   more 
principal,  which  was    the   Court,    and   as    that   which   they 
made  a  judgment  would  follow  incidently,  if  the  Court  were 
once  possessed. 

But  the  latter,  which  was  the  ancient  plot  (as  was  well 
known  to  Southampton),  was  in  the  end  by  the  general  op- 
inion of  them  all  insisted  and  rested  upon. 

And  the  manner  how  it  should  be  ordered  and  disposed 
was  this:  That  certain  selected  persons  of  their  number, 
such  as  were  well  known  in  Court,  and  might  have  access 
without  check  or  suspicion  into  the  several  rooms  in  Court, 
according  to  the  several  qualities  of  the  persons  and  the 
differences  of  the  rooms,  should  distribute  themselves  into 
the  Presence,  the  Guard-chamber,  the  Hall,  and  the  utter 
Court  and  gate,  and  some  one  principal  man  undertaking 


20]  Bacon  s  Declaration. 

every  several  room  with  the  strength  of  some  few  to  be  joined 
with  him,  every  man  to  make  good  his  charge,  according  to  the 
occasion.  In  which  distribution,  Sir  Charles  Davers  was  then 
named  to  the  Presence  and  to  the  great  chamber,  where  he  was 
appointed,  when  time  should  be,  to  seize  upon  the  halberds  of 
the  guard;  Sir  John  Davies  to  the  Hall;  and  Sir  Christopher 
Blunt  to  the  utter  gate;  these  seeming  to  them  the  three  princi- 
pal wards  of  consideration.  And  that  things  being  with  in  the 
Court  in  a  readiness,  a  signal  should  be  given  and  sent  to  Essex 
to  set  forward  from  Essex  House,  being  no  great  distance  off. 
Whereupon  Essex,  accompanied  with  the  noblemen  of  his  party, 
and  such  as  should  be  prepared  and  assembled  at  his  house  for 
that  purpose,  should  march  towards  the  Court;  and  that  the  for- 
mer conspirators  already  entered  should  give  correspondence  to 
them  without,  as  well  by  making  themselves  masters  of  the  gates 
to  give  them  entrance,  as  by  attempting  to  get  into  their  hand 
upon  the  sudden  the  halberds  of  the  guard,  thereby  hoping  to 
prevent  any  great  resistance  within,  and  by  filling  all  full  of  tu- 
mult and  confusion. 

This  being  the  platform  of  their  enterprise,  the  second  act  of 
this  tragedy  was  also  resolved;  which  was,  that  my  Lord  should 
present  himself  to  her  Majesty  as  prostrating  himself  at  her  feet, 
and  desire  the  remove  of  such  persons  as  he  called  his  enemies 
from  about  her.  And  after  that  my  Lord  had  obtained  posses- 
sion of  the  Queen  and  the  state,  he  should  call  his  pretended 
enemies  to  a  trial  upon  their  lives,  and  summon  a  Parliament, 
and  alter  the  government,  and  obtain  to  himself  and  his  associ- 
ates such  conditions  as  seemed  to  him  and  them  good. 

There  passed  speech  also  in  this  conspiracy  of  possessing  the 
City  of  London,  which  Essex  himself,  in  his  own  particular  and 
secret  inclination,  had  ever  a  special  mind  unto:  not  at  a  depar- 
ture or  going  from  his  purpose  of  possessing  the  Court,  but  as 
an  inducement  and  preparative  to  perform  it  upon  a  surer  ground. 
An  opinion  bred  in  him  (as  may  be  imagined)  partly  by  the  giv;  t 
overweening  he  had  of  the  love  of  the  citizens;  but  chiefly,  in  all 
likelihood,  by  a  fear  that  although  he  should  have  prevailed  in 
getting  her  Majesty's  person  into  his  hands  for  a  time  with  his 


Bacon  s  Declaration.  [21 

two  or  three  hundred  gentlemen,  yet  the  very  beams  and 
graces  of  her  Majesty's  magnanimity  and  prudent  carriage 
in  such  disaster  working  with  the  natural  instinct  of  loyal- 
ty, which  of  course  (when  fury  is  over)  doth  ever  revive  in 
the  hearts  of  subjects  of  any  good  blood  or  mind  (such  as 
his  troop  for  the  more  part  was  compounded  of,  though  by 
him  seduced  and  bewitched)  would  quickly  break  the  knot, 
and  cause  some  disunion  and  separation  amongst  them; 
whereby  he  might  have  been  left  destitute,  except  he  should 
build  upon  some  more  popular  number;  according  to  the  na- 
ture of  all  usurping  rebels,  which  do  ever  trust  more  in  the 
common  people  than  in  persons  of  sort  or  quality.  .And 
this  may  well  appear  by  his  own  plot  in  Ireland,  which  was 
to  have  come  with  the  choice  of  the  army,  from  which  he 
was  diverted,  as  before  is  showed.  So  as  his  own  courses 
inclined  ever  to  rest  upon  the  main  strength  of  the  multi- 
tude, and  not  upon  surprises,  or  the  combinations  of  a  lew. 

But  to  return:  These  were  the  resolutions  taken  at  that 
consultation,  held  by  these  five  at  Drury  House  some  five 
or  six  days  before  the  rebellion,  to  be  reported  to  Essex, 
who  ever  kept  in  himself  the  binding  and  directing  voice: 
which  he  did  to  prevent  all  differences  that  might  grow  by 
dissent  or  contradiction.  And  besides  he  had  other  persons 
(which  were  Cuffe  and  Blunt)  of  more  inwardness  and  con- 
fidence with  him  than  these  (Southampton  only  excepted) 
which  managed  that  consultation.  And  for  the  day  of  the 
enterprise,  which  is  that  must  rise  out  of  the  knowledge  of 
all  the  opportunities  and  difficulties,  it  was  referred  to  Es- 
sex his  own  choice  and  appointment;  it  being  nevertheless 
resolved  that  it  should  be  some  time  before  the  end  of  Can- 
dlemas Term. 

But  this  council  and  the  resolutions  thereof  were  in  some 
points  refined   by   Essex,  and    Cuffe,  and  Blunt:  for  first  it  Sir 
was  thought  good,  for   the   better  making  sure  of   the  utter  ^nry 
gate  of  the  Court,  and  the  greater  celerity  and  suddenness,  vill's 
to  have  a  troop  at   receipt   to  a  competent  number,  to  have?60" 
come  from  the  Mews,  where  they  should  have  been  assem- tion, 
29 


22]  Bacon  s  Declaration. 

bled  without  suspicion  in  several  companies,  and  from  thence 
cast  themselves  in  a  moment  upon  the  Court  gate,  and  join 
with  them  which  were  within,  while  Essex  with  the  main  of 
his  company  were  making  forward. 

It  was  also  thought  fit,  that  because  they  would  be  com- 
monwealth's men  and  foresee  that  the  business  and  service 
of  the  public  state  should  not  stand  still,  they  should  have 
ready  at  Court  and  at  hand  certain  other  persons  to  be  of- 
fered to  supply  the  offices  and  places  of  such  her  Majesty's 
counsellors  and  servants  as  they  should  demand  to  be  re- 
moved and  displaced. 

But  chiefly  it  was  thought  good,  that  the  assembling  of 
their  companies   together   should   be   upon  some   plausible 
pretext:  both  to  make  divers  of   their  company,  that  under- 
stood  not  the   depth   of  the   practices,  the  more  willing  to 
follow  them1  and  to  engage  themselves;  and  to  gather  them 
together  the  better  without  peril  of   detecting  or  interrupt- 
ing:   and   again,  to  take  the  Court   the  more   unprovided, 
without  any  alarm  given.     So  as  now  there  wanted  nothing 
The     but  the  assignation  of   the  day:  which  nevertheless  was   re- 
con-     solved  indefinitely  to  be  before  the  end  of  the  term,  as  was 
sion     said  before,  for  the  putting  in   execution  of  this  most  dan- 
of        gerous  and  execrable  treason.      But   God,  who   had  in  his 
nt>  3  a  divine  providence  long  ago  cursed  this  action  \vith  the  curse 
that  the  psalm  speaketh  of,   That  it  should  be  like  the  untime- 
ly fruit  of  a  woman,  brought  forth  before  it  came  to  perfection, 
so  disposed  above,  that  her   Majesty,  understanding   by  a 
general  churme3  and   muttering  of   the   great  and  universal 
resort  to  Essex  House,  contrary  to  her  princely  admonition, 
and  somewhat  differing   from  his   former  manner  (as  there 
could  not  be  so   great  fire   without  some  smoke),  upon  the 
seventh  of  February,  the   afternoon    before   this   rebellion, 
sent  to  Essex  House  Mr.  Secretary  Harbert,  to  require  him 
to  come   before  the  Lords   of   her   Majesty's  Council,  then 

1  Mr.  Spedding  annotates,   "In  the  original  there  is  a  semicolon  after 
'them,'  and   a   comma  after  'themselves;'  which  must  be  a  misprint. "- 
Abbott. 

3  See  p.  215  above. 

3  Charme  in  the  original. — Abbott. 


Bacon  s  Declaration.  [23 

sitting  in  counsel  at  Salisbury  Court,  being  the  Lord  Treasurer's 
house:  where  it  was  only  intended  that  he  should  have  received 
some  reprehension  for  exceeding  the  limitations  of  his  liberty 
granted  to  him  in  a  qualified  manner,  without  any  intention  to- 
wards him  of  restraint;  which  he,  under  colour  of  not  being  well, 
excused  to  do:  but  his  own  guilty  conscience  applying  it  that  his 
trains  were  discovered,  doubting  peril  in  any  further  delay,  de- 
termined to  hasten  his  enterprise,  and  to  set  it  on  foot  the  next 
day. 

But  then  again,  having  some  advertisement  in  the  evening 
that  the  guards  were  doubled  at  Court,  and  laying  that  to  the 
message  he  had  received  overnight,  and  so  concluding  that  alarm 
was  taken  at  Court,  he  thought  it  to  be  in  vain  to  think  of  the 
enterprise  of  the  Court  by  way  of  surprise:  but  that  now  his  only 
way  was  to  come  thither  in  strength,  and  to  that  end  first  to  at- 
tempt the  City.  Wherein  he  did  but  fall  back  to  his  own  former 
opinion,  which  he  had  in  no  sort  neglected,  but  had  formerly  made 
some  overtures  to  prepare  the  City  to  take  his  part;  relying  him- 
self (besides  his  general  conceit  that  himself  was  the  darling 
and  minion  of  the  people  and  specially  of  the  City)  more  partic- 
ularly upon  assurance  given  of  Thomas  Smith,  then  sheriff  of 
London,  a  man  well  beloved  amongst  the  citizens,  and  one  that 
had  some  particular  command  of  some  of  the  trained  forces  of 
the  City,  to  join  with  him.  Having  therefore  concluded  upon 
this  determination,  now  was  the  time  to  execute  in  fact  all  that 
he  had  before  in  purpose  digested. 

First  therefore  he  concluded  of  a  pretext  which  was  ever  part 
of  the  plot,  and  which  he  had  meditated  upon  and  studied  long 
before.  For  finding  himself  (thanks  be  to  God)  to  seek,  in  her 
Majesty's  government,  of  any  just  pretext  in  matter  of  state, 
either  of  innovation,  oppression,  or  any  unworthiness:  as  in  all 
his  former  discontentments  he  had  gone  the  beaten  path  of  trait- 
ors, turning  their  imputation  upon  counsellors  and  persons  of 
credit  with  their  sovereign,  so  now  he  was  forced  to  descend  to 
the  pretext  of  a  private  quarrel;  giving  out  this  speech,  how  that 
evening,  when  he  should  have  been  called  before  the  Lords  of  the 
Council,  there  was  an  ambuscado  of  musketers  placed  upon  the 


24]  Bacon  s  Declaration. 

water  by  the  device  of  my  Lord  Cobham  and  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,  to  have  murdered  him  by  the  way  as  he  passed. 
A  matter  of  no  probability;  those  persons  having  no  such 
desperate  estates  or  minds,  as  to  ruin  themselves  and  their 
posterity  by  committing  so  odious  a  crime. 

Con-  But  contrariwise,  certain  it  is  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorge  ac- 
sion  cused  Blunt  to  have  persuaded  him  to  kill,  or  at  least  ap- 
of  Sir  prehend,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh;  the  latter  whereof  Blunt  de- 
din_  nieth  not,  and  asked  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  forgiveness  at  the 
ando  time  of  his  death. 

ge  But  this  pretext,  being  the  best   he  had,  was   taken:   and 

then  did  messages  and  warnings  fly  thick  up  and  down  to 
every  particular  nobleman  and  gentleman,  both  that  even- 
ing and  the  next  morning,  to  draw  them  together  in  the 
forenoon  to  Essex  House,  dispersing  the  foresaid  fable, 
That  he  should  have  been  murdered;  save  that  it  was  some- 
time on  the  water,  sometime  in  his  bed,  varying  according 
to  the  nature  of  a  lie.  He  sent  likewise  the  same  night  cer- 
tain of  his  instruments,  as  namely  one  William  Temple,1 
his  secretary,  into  the  City,  to  disperse  the  same  tale,  hav- 
ing increased  it  some  few  days  before  by  an  addition,  That 
he  should  have  been  likewise  murdered  by  some  Jesuits  to 
the  number  of  four:  and  to  fortify  this  pretext,  and  to  make 
the  more  buzz  of  the  danger  he  stood  in,  he  caused  that 
night  a  watch  to  be  kept  all  night  long  towards  the  street, 
in  his  house.  The  next  morning,  which  was  Sunday,  they 
came  unto  him  of  all  hands,  according  to  his  messages  and 
warnings.  Of  the  nobility,  the  Earls  of  Rutland,  South- 
ampton, and  the  Lord  Sands,  and  Sir  Henry  Parker,  com- 
monly called  the  Lord  Mountegle;  besides  divers  knights 
and  principal  gentlemen  and  their  followers,  to  the  number 
of  some  three  hundreth.  And  also  it  being  Sunday  and  the 
hour  when  he  had  used  to  have  a  sermon  at  his  house,  it 
gave  cause  to  some  and  colour  to  others  to  come  upon  that 
occasion.  As  they  came,  my  Lord  saluted  and  embraced, 

1  Mr.  Spedding  adds,  "There  were  two  Temples,  Edward  and  William. 
I  suspect  it  was  Edward  who  was  employed  in  this  service." — Abbott. 


Bacon  s  Declaration.  [25 

and  to   the   generality   of   them   gave   to  understand,  in  as 
plausible  terms  as  he  could,   That  his  life  had  been  sought, 
and  that  he  meant  to  go  to  the  Court  and  declare  his  griefs  to 
the  Queen,  because  his  enemies  were  mighty,  and  used  her  Ma- 
jesty's name  and  commandment;  and  desired  their  help  to  takeThe 
his  part;  but  unto   the  more   special  persons  he  spake  high  fession 
and  in    other  terms,  telling   them    That  he   was  sure  of  M<?°ft^e, 

rLarl  OI 

City,  and  would  put  himself  into  that  strength  that  her  Ma-  Rut- 
jesty  should  not  be  able  to  stand  against  him,  and  that  /^lan^- 
would  take  revenge  of  his  enemies. 

All  the  while  after  eight  of  the  clock  in  the  morning,  the 
gates  to  the  street  and  water  were  strongly  guarded,  and 
men  taken  in  and  let  forth  by  discretion  of  those  that  held 
the  charge,  but  with  special  caution  of  receiving  in  such  as 
came  from  Court,  but  not  suffering  them  to  go  back  without 
my  Lord's  special  direction,  to  the  end  no  particularity  of 
that  which  passed  there  might  be  known  to  her  Majesty. 

About  ten  of  the  clock,  her  Majesty  having  understanding 
of  this  strange  and  tumultuous  assembly  at  Essex  House, 
yet  in  her  princely  wisdom  and  moderation  thought  to  cast 
water  upon  this  fire  before  it  brake  forth  to  further  incon- 
venience: and  therefore  using  authorit}^  before  she  would 
use  force,  sent  unto  him  four  persons  of  great  honour  and 
place,  and  such  as  he  ever  pretended  to  reverence  and  love,  _, 
to  offer  him  justice  for  any  griefs  of  his,  but  yet  to  lay  herdecla- 
royal  commandment  upon  him  to  disperse  his  company,  and  rrtj?n 
upon  them  to  withdraw  themselves.  Lord 

These  four  honourable  persons,  being  the  Lord  Keeper  Kee.?~ 

cr,  trie 

of  the  Great  Seal  of   England,  the   Earl  of  Worcester,  the  Earl  of 
Comptroller  of  her  Majesty's  household,  and  the  Lord  Chief Wor" 
Justice  of  England,  came  to  the  house,  and  found  the  gates  the 
shut  upon  them.      But  after  a  little  stay,  they  were  let  in  at  Q^ 
the  wicket;  and  as  soon  as  they  were  within,  the  wicket  was  Jus- 
shut,  and  all  their  servants  kept  out,  except  the  bearer  of  ^^'er 
the  seal.      In  the  court  they  found  the  Earls  with  the  rest  their 
of  the  company,  the  court  in  a  manner  full,  and  upon  their  Jj^j1 
coming  towards  Essex,  they  all  flocked  and  thronged  about  oath  of 


:6]  Bacon  s  Declaration. 


the  them;  whereupon  the  Lord  Keeper  in  an  audible  voice  de- 
Chief  livered  to  the  Earl  the  Queen's  message,  That  they  were 
Justice  sent  by  her  Majesty  to  understand  the  cause  of  Ihis  their  as- 
voce.  sembly,  and  to  let  them  know  thai  if  they  had  any  particular 

The  cause  of  griefs  against  any  persons  whatsoever  tJicy  should 
decla-  . 

ration  have  hearing  and  justice. 

of  the  Whereupon  the  Earl  of  Essex  in  a  very  loud  and  furious 
Wor-  voice  declared,  That  his  life  was  sought*  and  that  he  should 
cester,  nave  been  murdered  in  his  bed,  and  that  he  had  been  perlidi- 
ously  dealt  withal;  and  other  speeches  to  the  like  effect.  To 
which  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  said,  If  any  such  matter  were 
attempted  or  intended  against  him,  it  was  fit  for  him  to  de- 
clare it,  assuring  him  both  a  faithful  relation  on  their  part, 
and  that  they  could  not  fail  of  a  princely  in  difference  and 
justice  on  her  Majesty's  part. 

To  which  the  Earl  of  Southampton  took  occasion  to  object 
the  assault  made  upon  him  by  the  Lord  Gray:  which  my 
Lord  Chief  Justice  returned  upon  him,  and  said,  That  in  that 
case  justice  had  been  done,  and  the  party  was  in  prison  for  it. 

Then  the  Lord  Keeper  required  the  Earl  of  Essex,  that  if 
he  would  not  declare  his  griefs  openly,  yet  that  then  he 
would  impart  them  privately;  and  then  they  doubted  not  to 
give  him  or  procure  him  satisfaction. 

Upon  this  there  arose  a  great  clamour  among  the  multi- 
tude: Away,  my  Lord;  they  abuse  you,  they  betray  you;  they 
undo  you;  you  lose  time.  Whereupon  my  Lord  Keeper  put 
on  his  hat,  and  said  with  a  louder  voice  than  before,  My 
Lord,  let  us  speak  with  you  privately,  and  understand  your 
griefs;  and  I  do  command  you  all  upon  your  allegiance  to  lay 
down  your  weapons  and  to  depart.  Upon  which  words  the 
Earl  of  Essex  and  all  the  rest,  as  disdaining  commandment, 
put  on  their  hats;  and  Essex  somewhat  abruptly  went  from 
him  into  the  house,  and  the  Counsellors  followed  him,  think- 
ing he  would  have  private  conference  with  them  as  was  re- 
quired. 

And  as  they  passed  through  the  several  rooms,  they  might 
hear  many  of  the  disordered  company  cry,  Kill  them,  kill 


Bacons  Declaration.  [27 

them;  and  others  crying,  Nay,  but  shop  them  up,  keep  them  as 
pledges,  cast  the  great  seal  out  at  the  window;  and  other  such 
audacious  and  traitorous  speeches.  But  Essex  took  hold  of 
the  occasion  and  advantage  to  keep  in  deed  such  pledges  if  he 
were  distressed,  and  to  have  the  countenance  to  lead  them  with 
him  to  the  Court,  especially  the  two  great  magistrates  of  justice 
and  the  great  seal  of  England,  if  he  prevailed,  and  to  deprive 
her  Majesty  of  the  use  of  their  counsel  in  such  a  strait,  and  to 
engage  his  followers  in  the  very  beginning  by  such  a  capital  act 
as  the  imprisonment  of  Counsellors  carding  her  Majesty's  royal 
commandment  for  the  suppressing  of  a  rebellious  force. 

And  after  that  they  were  come  up  into  his  book-chamber,  he 
gave  order  they  should  be  kept  fast,  giving  the  charge  of  their 
custody  principally  to  Sir  John  Davis,  but  adjoined  unto  him  a 
warder,  one  Owen  Salisbury,  one  of  the  most  seditious  and 
wicked  persons  of  the  number,  having  been  a  notorious  robber, 
and  one  that  served  the  enemy  under  Sir  William  Stanley,  and 
that  bare  a  special  spleen  unto  my  Lord  Chief  Justice;  who  guard- 
ed these  honourable  persons  with  muskets  charged  and  matches 
ready  fired  at  the  chamber-door. 

This  done,  the  Earl  (notwithstanding  my  Lord  Keeper  still 
required  to  speak  with  him)  left  the  charge  of  his  house  with  Sir 
Gilly  Mericke;  and  using  these  words  to  my  Lord  Keeper,  Have 
patience  for  awhile,  I  will  go  take  order  with  the  Mayor  and  Sher- 
iffs for  the  City,  and  be  with  you  again  within  half  an  hour,  is- 
sued with  his  troop  into  London,  to  the  number  of  two  hundreth, 
besides  those  that  remain  in  the  house;  choice  men  for  hardiness 
and  valour;  unto  whom  some  gentlemen  and  one  nobleman  did 
after  join  themselves. 

But  from  the  time  he  went  forth,  it  seems  God  did  strike  him 
with  the  spirit  of  amazement,  and  brought  him  round  again  to 
the  place  whence  he  first  moved. 

For  after  he  had  once  by  Ludgate  entered  into  the  City,  he 
never  had  so  much  as  the  heart  or  assurance  to  speak  any  set 
or  confident  speech  to  the  people,  (but  repeated  only  over  and  over 
his  tale  as  he  passed  by,  that  he  should  have  been  murthered,  )  nor  to 
do  any  act  of  foresight  or  courage;  but  he  that  had  vowed  he  would 


28]  Bacon  s  Declaration. 

never  be  cooped  up  more, cooped  himself  first  within  the  walls 
of  the  City,  and  after  within  the  walls  of  an  house,  as  arrested 
The  by  God's  justice  as  an  example  of  disloyalty.  For  passing 
fession  through  Cheapside,  and  so  towards  Smith's  house,  and  find- 
of  the  ing}  though  some  came  about  him,  yet  none  joined  or  armed 
Rut-  with  him,  he  provoked  them  by  speeches  as  he  passed  to 
land.  arrri)  telling  them,  They  did  him  hurt  and  no  good,  to  come 
Lord  about  him  with  no  weapons. 

San-  J3uf-  there  was  not  in  so  populous  a  city,  where  he  thought 
himselfe  held  so  dear,  one  man,  from  the  chiefest  citizen  to 
the  meanest  artificer  or  prentice,  that  armed  with  him:  so  as 
being  extremely  appalled,  as  divers  that  happened  to  see 
him  then  might  visibl\T  perceive  in  his  face  and  countenance, 
and  almost  moulten  with  sweat,  though  without  any  cause 
of  bodily  labour  but  only  by  the  perplexity  and  horror  of  his 
mind,  he  came  to  Smith's  house  the  sheriff,  where  he  re- 
freshed himself  a  little  and  shifted  him. 

But  the  meanwhile  it  pleased  God  that  her  Majesty's  di- 
rections at  Court,  though  in  a  case  so  strange  and  sudden, 
were  judicial  and  sound.  For  first  there  was  commandment 
in  the  morning  given  unto  the  City,  that  every  man  should 
be  in  a  readiness  both  in  person  and  armour,  but  yet  td 
keep  within  his  own  door,  and  to  expect  commandment;  up- 
on a  reasonable  and  politic  consideration,  that  had  they 
armed  suddenly  in  the  streets,  if  there  were  any  ill-dispos- 
ed persons,  they  might  arm  on  the  one  side  and  turn  on  the 
other,  or  at  least  if  armed  men  had  been  seen  to  and  fro,  it 
would  have  bred  a  greater  tumult,  and  more  bloodshed;  and 
the  nakedness  of  Essex  troop  whold  not  have  so  well  ap- 
peared. 

And  soon  after,  direction  was  given  that  the  Lord  Burgh- 
ley,  taking  with  him  the  King  of  Hearlds,  should  declare 
him  traitor  in  the  principal  parts  of  the  City;  which  was 
performed  with  good  expedition  and  resolution,  and  the  loss 
and  hurt  of  some  of  his  company.  Besides  that,  the  Earl 
of  Cumberland,  and  Sir  Thomas  Gerard,  Knight-marshal, 
rode  into  the  City,  and  declared  and  notified  to  the  people 


Bacons  Declaration.  [29 


that  he  was  a  traitor:  from  which  time  divers  of  his  troop 
withdrawing  from  him,  and  none  other  coming  in  to  him, 
there  was  nothing  but  despair.  For  having  stayed  awhile, 
as  is  said,  at  Sheriff  Smith's  house,  and  there  changing  his 

pretext  of  a  private  quarrel,  and  publishing  That  the  realm  The 

con- 
shoiihl  have  been  sold  to  the  Infanta,  the  better  to  spur  on  fession 

the  people  to  rise,  and  [having]  called  and  given  command-  of  the 
ment  to  have  brought  arms  and  weapons  of  all  sorts,  and  Rut- 
been  soon    after  advertised  of  the  proclamation,  he  cameland- 

Essex 
lorth  in  a  hurry.  con. 

So  having  made  some  stay  in  Gracious  Street,  and  being fession 
dismayed  upon  knowledge  given  to  him  that    forces  were  bar. 
coming  forwards  against  him  under  the  conduct  of  the  Lord 
Admiral,  the  Lieutenant  of  her  Majesty's  forces,  and  not 
knowing  what  course  to  take,  he  determined  in  the  end  to 
go  back  towards  his  own  house,  as  well  in  hope  to  have 
found  the  Counsellors  there,  and  by  them  to  have  served 
some  turn,  as  upon  trust  that  towards  night  his  friends  in 
the  City    would    gather   their    spirits   together    and  rescue 
him,  as  himself  declared  after  to  M.  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower. 

But  for  the  Counsellors,  it  had  pleased  God  to  make  one 
of  the  principal  offenders  his  instrument  for  their  delivery; 
who  seeing  my  Lord's  case  desperate,  and  contriving  how 
to  redeem  his  fault  and  save  himself,  came  to  Sir  John  Dav- 
is and  Sir  Gilly  Mericke,  as  sent  from  my  Lord;  and  so  pro- 
cured them  to  be  released. 

But  the  Earl  of  Essex,  with  his  company  that  was  left, 
thinking  to  recover  his  house,  made  on  by  land  towards 
Ludgate;  where  being  resisted  by  a  company  of  pikemen 
and  other  forces,  gathered  together  by  the  wise  and  diligent 
care  of  the  Bishop  of  London,  and  commanded  by  Sir  John 
Luson,  and  yet  attempting  to  clear  the  passage,  he  was  with 
no  great  difficulty  repulsed.  At  which  encounter  Sir  Christo- 
pher Blunt  was  sore  wTounded,  and  young  Tracy  slain,  on 
his  part;  and  one  Waits  on  the  Queen's  part,  and  some  oth- 
er. Upon  which  repulse  he  went  back  and  fled  towards  the 
water  side,  and  took  boat  at  Queenhive,  and  so  was  receiv- 


30]  Bacon  s  Declaration. 

ed  into  Essex  House,  at  the  Watergate,  which  he  fortified  and 
barricado'd;  but  instantly  the  Lord  Lieutenant  so  disposed  his 
companies,  as  all  passage  and  issue  forth  was  cut  off  from  him 
both  by  land  and  water,  and  all  succours  that  he  might  hope  for 
were  discouraged:  and  leaving  the  Earl  of  Cumberland,  the  Earl 
of  Lincoln,  the  Lord  Thomas  Howard,  the  Lord  Gray,  the  Lord 
Burghley,  and  the  Lord  Compton,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  Sir  Thom- 
as Gerrard,  with  divers  others,  before  the  house  to  landward,  my 
Lord  Lieutenant  himself  thought  good,  taking  with  him  the 
Lord  of  Effingham,  Lord  Cobham,  Sir  John  Stanhope,  Sir  Rob- 
ert Sidney,  M.  Foulk  Grevill,  with  divers  others,  to  assail  the 
garden  and  banquetting-house  on  the  waterside,  and  presently 
forced  the  garden,  and  won  to  the  walls  of  the  house,  and  was 
ready  to  have  assailed  the  house;  but  out  of  a  Christian  and  hon- 
ourable consideration,  understanding  that  there  were  in  the  house 
the  Countess  of  Essex,  and  the  Lady  Rich,  with  their  gentlewo- 
men, let  the  Earl  of  Essex  know  by  Sir  Robert  Sidney,  that  he 
was  content  to  suffer  the  ladies  and  gentlewomen  to  come  forth. 
Whereupon  Essex,  returning  the  Lord  Lieutenant  thanks  for  the 
compassion  and  care  he  had  of  the  ladies,  desired  only  to  have 
an  hour's  respite  to  make  way  for  their  going  out,  and  an  hour  aft- 
er to  barricade  the  place  again.  Which  because  it  could  make  no 
alteration  to  the  hindrance  of  the  service,  the  Lord  Lieutenant 
thought  good  to  grant.  But  Essex,  having  had  some  talk  within 
of  a  sally,  and  despairing  of  the  success,  and  thinking  better  to 
yield  himself,  sent  word  that  upon  some  conditions  he  would  yield. 
But  the  Lord  Lieutenant  utterly  refusing  to  hear  of  capitula- 
tions, Essex  desired  to  speak  with  my  Lord,  who  thereupon  went 
up  close  to  the  house;  and  the  late  Earls  of  Essex  and  Southamp- 
ton, with  divers  other  lords  and  gentlemen  their  partakers,  pre- 
sented themselves  upon  the  leads:  and  Essex  said,  he  would  not 
capitulate,  but  entreat;  and  made  three  petitions.  The  first, 
That  they  might  be  civilly  used:  whereof  the  Lord  Lieutenant  as- 
sured them.  The  second,  That  they  might  have  an  houronable 
trial:  whereof  the  Lord  Lieutenant  answered  they  needed  not  to 
doubt.  The  third,  That  he  might  have  Ashton  a  preacher  with  him 
in  prison  for  the  comfort  of  his  soul:  which  the  Lord  Lieutenant 


Bacons  Declaration.  [31 

said  he  would  move  to  her  Majesty,  not  doubting  of  the  matter 
of  his  request,  though  he  could  not  absolutely  promise  him  that 
person.1  Whereupon  they  all,  with  the  ceremony  amongst  mar- 
tial men  accustomed,  came  down  and  submitted  themselves  and 
yielded  up  their  swords,  which  was  about  ten  of  the  clock  at 
night;  there  having  been  slain  in  holding  of  the  house,  by  musket 
shot,  Owen  Salisbury,  and  some  few  more  on  the  part  of  my  Lord, 
and  some  few  likewise  slain  and  hurt  on  the  Queen's  part:  and 
presently,  as  well  the  Lords  as  the  rest  of  their  confederates  of 
quality  were  severally  taken  into  the  charge  of  divers  particular 
lords  and  gentlemen,  and  by  them  conveyed  to  the  Tower  and 
other  prisons. 

So  as  this  action,  so  dangerous  in  respect  of  the  person  of  the 
leader,  the  manner  of  the  combination,  and  the  intent  of  the 
plot,  brake  forth  and  ended  within  the  compass  of  twelve  hours, 
and  with  the  loss  of  little  blood,  and  in  such  sort  as  the  next  day 
all  courts  of  justice  were  open,  and  did  sit  in  their  accustomed 
manner;  giving  good  subjects  and  all  reasonable  men  just  cause 
to  think,  not  the  less  of  the  offenders'  treason,  but  the  more  of 
her  Majesty's  priencely  magnanimit}^  and  prudent  foresight  in  so 
great  a  peril;  and  chiefly  of  God's  goodness,  that  hath  blssed  her 
Majesty  in  this,  as  in  many  things  else,  with  so  rare  and  divine 
felicity. 


1  "Whereas  the  Earl  of  Essex  desired  to  have  a  chaplain  of  his  own  sent  un- 
to him  to  give  him  sacrificial  comfort,  wherein  the  Lord  Admiral  hath  moved 
her  Majesty;  but  his  own  chaplain  being  evil  at  ease,  Dr.  Don,  the  Dean  of 
Norwich,  is  sent  unto  him  to  attend  there,  for  whose  diet  and  lodging  the  Lieuten- 
ant of  the  Tower  is  to  take  order." — Letter  to  Lord  Thomas  Howard,  Constable 
of  the  Tower  of  Londen.  Feb.  16.  Council  Reg.  Eliz.  No.  17,  fol.  83.  I  quote 
from  a  copy.  — Abbott. 


INDEX  OF  THE  SONNETS 

AND  THEIR 

DISPOSITION  IN  THE  MASQUE. 


LABYRINTH.  MASQUE. 

Sonnet 1 Page 78 

"  2 "  76 

"  3 "  144 

"  4 "  115 

...5 "  146 

__6__  .  "  74 

7__  "  117 

___8 "  48 

9__  .  "  49 

"  10 "  80 

"  11 "  46 

"  12 "  145 

"  13 "  77 

"  14 _  "  27 

"  15. _  "  114 

"  16 "  34 

"  17..  .  "  .  .116 

"  18 "  118 

"  19 "  168 

"  .20 "  __....  95 

"  21 "  58 

"  22 "  111 

"  23 "  30 

"  24 "  127 

"  25 "  26 

"  26 "  20 

"  27 "  137 

"  28 "  137 

"  29 "  123 

"  30 "  167 

"  31 "  172 

"  32 "  98 

..33-.  .  "  .  .93 


LABYRINTH.  MASQUE. 

Sonnet 34 Page 109 

"  35 "  52 

"  36 "  40 

"  37 "  36 

"  38__  "  166 

"  39. _  .  41 

...40 "  158 

"  41 "  138 

"  42._  "  102 

"  43 "  38 

"  44 "  62 

"  45 "  64 

"  46 "  126 

"  47 "  128 

"  48 "  61 

...  49_.  "  107 

"  50 "  63 

"  .  ...51._  "  65 

"  52 "  35 

"  53..  ...  "  91 

"  54__  "  134 

"  55 "  173 

"  56 "  37 

"  57 "  31 

"  58 "  29 

"  59 "  56 

"  60 "  53 

l<  61 "  157 

"  62 "  32 

"  63 "  47 

"  64 "  45 

"  65 "  28 

_.66_.  <(  .  .70 


Index. 


LABYRINTH.  MASQUE. 

Sonnet 67 Page 163 

"   68 "  165 

"   69 ...  "  83 

"   70 "  85 

__71___  "  139 

"   72._.___  "  75 

....73 "  r____105 

"   74 "  42 

"   75 "  79 

"   76 "  108 

"   77 "  20 

"   78 "  133 

__79__  "  141 

"   80 "  150 

81 "  171 

"   82 "  131 

83 "  120 

84 "  147 

"   85 "  84 

"   86 "  130 

"   87 "  125 

"   88 "  140 

"   89 "  152 

90 "  143 

"   91 "  82 

"   92 "  97 

"   93 "  99 

"   94 "  112 

"   95 "  124 

"   96 "  142 

"   97. _  _._  "  104 

"   98 "  135 

"   99 "  135 

"   100__  "  155 

"   101 "  159 

"   102 "  136 

"   103 "  66 

"   _.__104 "  110 

"   105 "  33 

"   106 "  119 

"   107__  "  121 

"   __.-108____  "  169 

"   109 "  100 

__110__    ,.."".   .88 


LABYRINTH.  MASQUE. 

Sonnet lll._     ..Page..     _    51 


112. 
.113. 
.114. 
.115. 
.116. 
.117. 
.118. 
.119. 
120. 
.121. 
122. 
123. 
.124. 
125. 
.126. 


148 

106 

94 

149 

129 

86 

156 

122 

153 

96 

....  170 
....  81 

57 

54 

..  113 


....127 ....160 

128 "  59 

129 "  39 

130 "  161 

131 "  . 164 

132._  .._  "  162 

133 "  101 

....134 "  103 

135 "  154 

136 "  44 

137 "  67 

138 "  60 

139 "  89 

140 "  90 

141 "  87 

142 "  69 

143 "  73 

144 "  92 

145 "  72 

....146 "  55 

147 "  71 

148 "  132 

149._.__.  "  43 

150___"_._  "  151 

151 "  50 

152 "  68 

....153 (<  174 

__154__    ..  "  ',   ..174 


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